Shifted Destiny
by Eryninn
Summary: Gender bending. AU. What if Kal El, aka Clark Kent, had been found by Lionel Luthor and vice versa? Amazing, an actual update after what seems like a bazillion years.
1. Switched at Birth?

Title: Shifted Destiny  
Rated: G  
Disclaimer: I don't own _Smallville, Superman_, _Lex or Lionel Luthor_. They belong to DC Comics, Warner Brothers Entertainment, and the creators of _Smallville_ (the show) itself, Al Gough and Miles Millar.  
Genre: Alternate Universe. GenderBending. One Shot (unless my muse decides differently).  
Warnings: Gender bender (for my own sake), though I do not plan (if I continue this story) to have it evolve into a romantic relationship between Lex and Clark.  
Summary: What if Kal-El had been found by Lionel Luthor instead of the Kents-and vice versa? Would Lex be evil, driven by the desire to regain her lost heritage? Would Kal-El actually follow the destiny both of his fathers have in mind for him? Or would they find a new path?  
Author's Note: To spare myself some confusion over names and whatnot-though it probably won't help the reader all that much-there was an accident at Luthor Corp the day before the meteor shower. Lionel kept Lex with him after this happened, mainly because his wife and he are estranged, so there are very few who know what happened. It is explained in a very vague way in the beginning of the story. Feedback about my grammar, spelling, characterizations are welcomed. In fact, they are needed as I have only just rediscovered this fandom after three years out of it. Flames about me, however, are not.

654321

"Lex!" Lionel shouted, pushing through the tall cornstalks that blocked his path, making his way both treacherous and unstable. This was the second time in as many days that he'd lost his child, the first time being in his labs where Lex had been exposed to some dangerous experiments that had gone awry. An accident that had changed his son into a daughter. Tripping over his feet for what felt like the hundredth time, he looked up and saw a pair of pale, pink feet coming towards him. Walking with surprising ease over the uneven ground.

"Lex?" this time it was more of a question than a demand for an answer. Even as he looked up, knowing what he would find, the owner of the feet crouched down and Lionel saw a very young face surrounded by curly, dark hair and expressive green-blue eyes staring back at him. This was definitely _not_ his daughter-but he could become his son without the painful reminders of his wife. The last he heard, she was still in Paris with her friends, trying to put their marriage behind her without severing all ties to him. At least, that's what his informants told him. Lionel wasn't sure that it was true at all. Whenever they met, it was on Lillian's terms-not his own.

Pushing himself to his feet, he took off his jacket and wrapped it around the boy. "Come on, Lex. We have an appointment to keep."

The boy merely tilted his head and stared up at him, docilely letting him carry him through the field towards the road he hoped would lead them to Smallville. The full extent of the dreadful accident in Luthor Corp's lab was unknown to any but him-the scientists having all died in the explosion-and he'd been very careful to keep Lex covered up. Through his shock, he recognized that he could not have the press catching wind of what happened. It had been in his mind to force Lex to remain a boy, using all of his power and influence to make sure that Lex had her own room-complete with bathroom-and a locker room of her own so that now one would ever find out the truth. This worked out even better.

For a moment, he spared a thought for the real Lex, lost somewhere amidst all of this destruction, but it passed quickly. There was no way Lex could have survived the meteor shower, not with the dust it would have kicked up. The asthma that had dogged Lex from birth would have killed her instantly. No, there was no way she had survived-but he had this boy in Lex's place. His mind stuttered to a full stop, realizing the implications of his thoughts How had this boy survived?

More importantly, where had he come from?

Knowing he needed to get to his people fast so that they could secure this area and search it for clues, he picked up his pace. As he walked along-nearly jogging, he heard a car and turned about, hailing it. The truck slowed and the man inside looked at him, suspicion on his face as he stared at the well dressed man and the boy he carried. "I'm Lionel and this is my son, Lex. We got turned around in the storm. Could you give us a ride? I fear my son needs medical attention," he smoothly said.

"So do a lot of folks," the man replied, introducing himself after a moment, "I'm Sheriff Waid."

"Thanks," he climbed in and held the boy closer, listening with half an ear to the man talk, resigned. As grateful as he was for the ride, he could've done without the running commentary. It was going to be a long ride into town.

654321

Martha stumbled into the clearing, eyes wide in horror at the sight of the flattened stalks of corn that lay about her. Even at harvest time, the fields did not look like this. They did not have the appearance of sheer apocalyptical waste. Jonathan stopped beside her, as shocked as she was by the devastation. May be more so because this was his beloved world that was laid to waste, she could not even begin to think about how he must be feeling in that moment to see this...travesty of life.

Finally, he made his way forward, "We have to get to town, find out what's going on." His head shook, dumbfounded, trying to wrap its mind around all that he was seeing. "People will need our help and..." his sentence was cut off as he fell over something. Rolling over, he pushed away the fallen cornstalks, thinking that he saw something underneath them.

"Martha!" his shout snapped her out of her lethargic shock and she carefully ran towards him, feeling as though she was on auto pilot. Dropping to her knees, she stared at the child he'd uncovered in shock. A tuft of red hair was all that was left on the smooth head, the hand lay shaking, half opened.

"I've never seen this one around town," she gently touched the shaking hand, heart aching for the child. Shocked, pale gray-blue eyes stared at nothing as tremors continued to rock the body.

"That's because he's not from around here," he said, sounding almost cold to her. "Look at the uniform, he's from Excelsior or is on his way there. This has to be Luthor's boy, what's his name?-Lex."

Martha shook her head, "Then why is he here instead of with his father? The Ross creamed corn plant is miles away from here and wasn't Luthor interested in buying it? Isn't that why he was coming here?"

"They could've gotten separated in all the chaos," Jonathan pointed out reasonably, not sure that he believed his own words. Something didn't feel quite right to him. Careless as Lionel may have appeared to be about his family life, there was no way he'd let someone get their hands on his child. That would be giving an enemy a bargaining chip that Luthor wouldn't be able to wriggle away from. "Either way, he needs medical attention. Help me with him, will you?"

The odd trio made their way unsteadily towards the town, taking turns carrying the boy. It seemed to take them forever to come to the town. Reaching Smallville Medical Center, Martha took hold of him and excused herself. "I'll take him into the bathroom, it shouldn't take than a moment," she whispered. Though she knew that it would probably be better for the doctors to take care of Lex, she wanted just a little more time with him.

Nodding, he watched them walk off, faintly disturbed. Jonathan knew he shouldn't allow Martha to get so attached to the boy, but he just couldn't bring himself to stop it. Giving her five minutes to finish, he then made his way through the gathered people. As he walked towards the harried front desk, he thought he heard the name _Luthor_ murmured a few times. "Excuse me, but did you say that Mr. Luthor was here?"

"Yes, with his son, Lex," the woman sighed and missed Jonathan's shocked look. Martha came up behind him, hearing her words. "The poor boy is in shock, can't speak a word, not that I blame him. The dear had been caught up in the midst of that meteor shower, though he seems surprisingly energetic and aware. But enough about the Luthor family, you three look like you were caught up in the shower as well. Is that your son?" Like everyone else, Sally knew that the Kents had been looking into adoption.

Before Jonathan could say anything, Martha said, "No. She's our foster daughter."

"This way," Sally walked down the hall, showing them to a mostly empty room. "A doctor will be with you as soon as there is one available."

Jonathan waited until the door shut behind her before staring at his wife, quietly demanding an explanation, "Foster daughter? Martha, you know as well as I do that this boy is Lex Luthor."

"No, Lex Luthor is already in this hospital being fawned over by his father and the doctors-you heard them talking. You know as well as I do that Luthor will not listen to us, he abandoned his own child in a _corn field_. And this is no boy," Martha replied firmly, placing the girl down on the bed. Running a calming hand over her head, she contemplated her words.

The girl's eyes never left her own, an almost desperate plea in them. "When I took her to the bathroom, I found out. That's why I threw out the Excelsior uniform. Jonathan, I don't know what else to tell you but we can't abandon her as Luthor did-we just can't."

Running his hand through his hair, he sighed and wished he was anywhere else but in this situation. He knew full well what Martha was asking of him. While it was true that they had been thinking about adoption, they had never really talked about doing it. "Martha, I don't know what happened but we both know the truth. This is Lionel Luthor's child and while he may be able to fool this community, he will not fool his own wife. He will come looking for her," he pointed out. "I don't think he'll have a choice in the situation. She can't stay with us, Martha."

"I know he'll come for her, that's why I said _foster_ daughter," Martha argued, heart breaking again for the girl. The light in those haunted grey eyes had dimmed with every word Jonathan spoke before mercifully closing in sleep. What, if anything, had the girl understood? "We can't turn her away, Jonathan. She needs us."

The doctor's arrival spared him the necessity of answering but he knew full well that he would have to tell Martha something. It wasn't that he didn't want a child, he did. And it didn't matter to him that he may not be the biological father, he'd love the child anyway. What made him uncomfortably unhappy was the mystery surrounding the girl.

He knew the child was the blood child of Lionel Luthor. There was something in the facial shape that spoke of the Luthor he'd seen in the papers. And he recognized those eyes from the one glimpse he'd gotten of Lex and his mother when he'd been in Metropolis, visiting an old family friend. Though it was beyond his understanding about how the boy had become the girl.

Still, there was no way to fight a man like Luthor-and he didn't was to try. The man was a rotten apple and would harm Martha. And that was something Jonathan couldn't allow, not even for a helpless child's welfare.

Martha could see from the expression on his face that he'd already made up his mind. It was clearly not the answer that she wanted to hear, he even had sound reasons for his reply. But she had as well-and this was one war she intended to win.

After their own injuries were seen to, they left, knowing that they were only in the way. Catching a ride with the deputy sheriff, they arrived home, hungry and tired. After checking to see the damages, Jonathan and Martha had a quiet supper. By mutual agreement, they did not speak of the girl, not wanting to say anything they would regret.

The next few days passed in a blur of working to restore the community to a pre-meteor shower condition, though they knew that some damage was irreversible and that the town would not be the same. Still, they were going to try. Martha spent a lot of her time in town, helping with the relief efforts and visiting the girl she called Erin Clark after her great-grandmother. While Erin still did not speak, her shakes and the look of fear slowly faded away.

One day, after a long talk with Jonathan, she arrived to take Erin home. "Gone?" she repeated, feeling something shatter. "Do you mean her parents came for her?" If she was taken in by her family, then Martha knew she'd be all right. Yes, she would miss the girl but if she was family, she would be loved.

"No, the Sheriff turned her over to Child Protective Services this morning, said that we couldn't keep her any longer. There were others who needed the money being expended to take care of her. CPS would be able to find her a family, Mrs. Kent. I know that you were her foster parents but I guess they figured that you would be too busy with rebuilding to properly take care of her. I'm just glad that you were able to spend time with her. The poor dear looked forward to your visits."

"How could you tell?" Martha asked, never having really noticed any true difference. Erin hadn't said a word in the whole week that she'd known her.

"Her eyes," the reply was simple. "Most of the time, there was nothing there. But she always seemed to know when you where going to show up, those eyes of hers lit up like it was Christmas morning. She loved you."

"I loved her too," she softly replied. "I hope she knew that. Thank you, Sally." Martha slowly walked out, shoulders slumped in defeat. But she also wondered. Sheriff Waid knew that they were going to adopt the girl, he'd heard them discussing it. Why had he done this when he knew what they were going to do?

Though she knew Jonathan would not be happy with her, she called her father and they talked about the situation. Mr. Clark agreed to look into things-discreetly. Martha knew that as soon as she got home, she'd tell Jonathan. This wasn't something she could keep from him and she knew that her father would use this information to hurt him if she gave him the chance to.

"Where's your little Erin, Mrs. Kent?" a voice asked after she'd taken a few steps away from the phone in the lobby of the store.

"Didn't you turn her over to CPS, Sheriff?" she asked, thoroughly confused.

"No, I knew that you were going to take her in. Is that what you were told?" he asked, looking vaguely concerned. Of all the things he thoughts she'd be told, it wasn't that.

"Yes, they said you told them that CPS would find her parents or family. That we couldn't do more for her," she answered.

"I'll see what I can find out," he promised her, shifting his gaze away from her own. "This might have come from someone else and they just used my name to implement it. I do have to answer to my superiors, much like anyone else."

Though she didn't quite trust the look in his eyes, she nodded her thanks and continued on her way. Jonathan was waiting for her outside, a frown on his face when she noticed that she was alone. Alone and upset in a way that he'd become very good at recognizing immediately, "What's wrong? Is she worse?" he asked, placing his arm around her shoulders to draw her into a hug.

"No, she was taken by CPS," she answered, almost sharply. Almost as if she blamed _him_ for what had happened, though she was well aware that it wasn't his way. Jonathan was not a dishonest man, "I'm sorry."

"I know how much she means to you," Jonathan quietly said, no blame in his voice. "Tell you what, we'll look around for where she was taken and visit her. If they have no information about her family, we'll go through with our plans."

"Can we?" Martha didn't wait for his answer, she pulled out of his loose embrace and flung her arms about him. "Thank you!"

654321

Pete Ross sat in the back of the truck with the rest of the children who'd lost their parents and had no where else to go. For the past five minutes, he'd found himself staring at the bald headed kid in the mismatched clothes. The poor kid hadn't shed a tear like the rest of them had as they were put in the car and taken away from their home-not one. Even the older kids cried, but not this one. He was curious about why as only a three year old could be.

Plus, he thought only really old people could be bald.

He vaguely remembered having an aunt who'd been bald before she died. She looked really strange with her funny hair and the way she always smelled of cats and old tea. But she had the nicest hugs and told the best stories to him whenever she tucked him into his bed under the big window that looked out at the cornfield.

They bounced along the road, coming to a stop at last. Slowly, they got out of the truck and stood in front of a tall, three story, gray bricked house with a large yard surrounded by an iron fence. Pete shivered, not sure he liked the look of the place. As they made their way inside, pushing and shoving, Pete lost sight of the bald kid.

Two weeks later:

Mrs. Octa stared at the young couple sitting before her, brown eyes thoughtful as she studied them. They looked nice enough and the background check revealed that they were stable and reliable with a steady income. Both were well educated and had what appeared to be a good marriage. "Yes, we do have a girl matching that description but I don't think she's what you're looking for."

"What's wrong with her?" Martha asked, apprehensively. Suddenly, all of the things she knew about the Luthor family came into her mind and she wondered if the child was some kind of monster.

"Nothing like that," she hastened to assure her. "In fact, we've had no disciplinary problems with her at all. Unlike the other children, she obediently follows orders. But she's a difficult child to handle for all of her good manners and quiet nature. She's too quiet, not apt to make friends at all, though she has become friends with a young boy named Pete. She doesn't talk and seems to have problems reading and writing. I was actually concerned that she may have some mental problems because of the meteor shower. But the doctors assure me that she shouldn't be so damaged. While the other children seem to be recovering, she shies from any kind of human contact."

"It doesn't matter," Martha insisted, "I would like to see her now."

With a sigh, she nodded and stood, "Right now, all the children should be at recess. We are trying to keep them to a schedule to help them feel a sense of normalcy. You'll see what I mean about her."

Jonathan and Martha followed the woman out of the dim office into the bright sunlight. The children saw them and stopped what they were doing, running towards them, eager faces shinning. There was hope in these eyes that it was family coming for them. Or, at the very least, a chance for adoption. Martha looked them over, searching for Erin.

Looking down from the tree, he noticed that the kids were gone. Quickly descending, he made his way over to the rolled up body. "You okay, Charlie Brown?" Pete asked softly, trying not to draw attention to them.

Her head nodded and she slowly uncurled, pushing up off the ground. Sucking her bloody lip, she tilted her head and stared up at him, asking what happened silently.

"Adults," he shrugged, falling silent as a shadow fell across them, growing larger as the person approached.

"Charlie Brown?" Martha asked, knowing her instantly. Though she looked at Pete, she was studying her Erin out of the corner of her eye. She looked better. "Why do you call her that?"

The girl rose and faced her very slowly, a shy smile forming as she recognized the woman from the hospital. Though she winced in pain, she couldn't keep the happy look off of her face. There was something about the woman that she trusted, that she missed, and she was glad to see her.

"Cause she's bald like him," he said, as if that was obvious.

"I see," she murmured, studying the girl intently. She did not like the bruises on her face and the thin body. But those things were easily fixed. Kneeling down so that she could look her in the eye, she solemnly said, "We've come to take you home with us. You're going to live with us and be our little girl."

"Not without Pete," she stammered out the words, forcing them past a clogged throat. It hurt to speak and she wasn't sure that her words had been heard over the gasps of shock that followed the first word to pass her lips. She forced herself to speak again, "I won't go without Pete."

Martha embraced her and stood up, holding her as tightly as she dared. "Pete can come to," she agreed, holding her hand out to the boy who eagerly took it.

"Are you going to call her Charlie Brown?" he asked as they walked towards Jonathan.

"I was thinking about calling her Erin...Erin Clark Kent."

"Erin?" he repeated. "I 'pose I can live with that."


	2. Lillian Reacts

Rated: G  
Disclaimer: I don't own _Smallville, Superman_, _Lex or Lionel Luthor_. They belong to DC Comics, Warner Brothers Entertainment, and the creators of _Smallville_ (the show) itself, Al Gough and Miles Millar.  
Genre: Alternate Universe. Gender Bending. One Shot (unless my muse decides differently).  
Summary: Lillian finds out and is not happy with Lionel, she does some thinking and planning of her own.  
Author's Note: According to the Official Guide for _Smallville_, Lillian Luthor has dark hair.

654321

Lionel arrived home by helicopter two days after the shower, the boy securely in a harness. As he flew, he realized the sheer audaciousness of his actions-there was no way he could pass this _child_ off as the nine year old Lex. Physical appearance aside, how would he explain the fact that he was younger than he should be without sparking an outside investigation into his labs?

The people he did certain projects for would not be pleased if the public was made aware of the kinds of things Luthor Labs did for them.

He could've kicked himself for going with such an emotion based response to finding the boy and losing Lex. It had been a response he would have berated Lex for. Emotion had no place in the world of a Luthor. Nor should it drive their actions and yet, two days ago, he had allowed emotion to override his training.

He prided himself on his logical thought process, on applying his astute business sense to everything he did. This made no sense and was sloppy work for a Luthor. His father would be appalled by his lack of foresight. While some things could be explained by the meteor shower, not everything could. How was he to turn this disaster to his advantage?

He still wasn't entirely sure he knew what had happened in the cornfield that day. There was something more at work than a simple meteor shower, especially when it brought a child to him who showed no signs of the damage that existed in those who had been exposed to the meteor rocks. The boy was perfectly healthy-almost frighteningly so.

Getting out, he turned and accepted the boy from one of his assistants. "Make sure the office files that paperwork as soon as they can," he ordered, seeing Dominic waiting by the door. Curtly nodding to his associates, he joined the man, keeping the boy's head covered up. Already, he was wondering just how to silence his and Lex's trip to the Smallville Medical Center. If he could keep Lex's new look out to the press, he may just manage to salvage the situation.

"Sir, Mrs. Lillian is inside," Dominic uneasily whispered, knowing not to call her by the Luthor name. He, like everyone else, was unsure about the true status of the Luthor marriage. But unlike the others, Dominic knew not to gossip. He knew how to keep the rumors silenced and the naysayers away. It was really because of him that the world did not realize just how shaky their union was.

Lionel was proud of the fact that he managed not to stumble, though he was surprised to hear that she was there. In retrospect, he should not have been. It was something he really should have expected after all that had happened. But he was not ready to face Lillian, "the study?" he calmly asked, "Or the parlor?"

The door opened and she stepped out, her eyes instantly finding them. "Lex?" she called out, voice trembling only minimally. Rushing forward, she stopped upon reaching them and stared, frowning violently. "Lionel, where is my son?"

"Right here," he smoothly replied, moving to go past her. Seeing her there was too painful and brought up memories better left forgotten.

"That is not Lex," she frostily replied, stepping in front of him. She hadn't even taken a glance at the boy under the blanket-she knew her child. Lex was her blood and fire, the only thing in this marriage she considered of any worth. "He is too lean. He's not the right build-and he has black hair instead of red. Is this the child of some whore of yours? This is still my house and I will not have any child begotten upon some trollop here."

"We need to talk," Lionel pushed past her, not wanting to have this discussion out in the open where anyone could hear them. It may have been inevitable but it would be done where he was comfortable, "Inside. And no, he isn't."

Her eyes narrowed and the sunlight glinting off of her dark hair created a dark halo about her face, shadowing it. "You will tell me what happed, Lionel. I entrusted Lex into your care with the absolute assurance that nothing would happen to him. I do not see him."

"Mom!" the boy chirped happily, suddenly waking up and staring at her. The blanket slipped further back, revealing his startling eyes, confused when she did not look at him. "Mom!" he tried again, frowning unhappily at her as she continued to ignore his outstretched arms. Tears filled his eyes and he started to cry, reaching out for her.

Lillian was helpless to resist the cry of this boy, though she wanted to ignore him-she knew nothing of this boy.

_Nothing_. He was not her own, he was an interloper. "Don't think this changes anything," she harshly warned, accepting him from a relieved Lionel. Rocking the boy close and murmuring soothing words of pure nonsense, she tucked his head under her chin. Turning on her heel, she marched into the house.

Lionel followed her, helpless to do anything else. Of all the things he expected, seeing his wife at the house was not one of them. Lillian Luthor had not stepped foot in their home in almost five years, after the violent miscarriage of their second child. That was an event he'd done everything in his power to keep silent.

To this day, no one save the two of them really knew what had happened on that hellish day.

Still, she could be the help he sought. If he could just get her to help him, that was. There just might be a chance to salvage the whole rotten situation. Entering the library, he sat down by the fire and watched her with the boy, thinking they looked right together. Like a living Madonna and her child, though he knew she would be angry with such a sacrilegious thought.

"Well?" she asked, getting straight to the point. The boy snuggled on her lap, staring at the mixed jewel bracelet on her wrist, interested in it. She jangled it a few times, keeping his attention focused on it rather than on her and Lionel.

Dully-knowing he couldn't face her for this tale-he watched the flames in the fire. Watched the way they danced along the red brick of the chimney, reminding him of the sky in Smallville. As first, his words were spoken haltingly, in a shaken voice as he remembered finding Lex twitching restlessly on the floors of Luthor Corp's lab. Glancing only once her way, he dryly explained what the purpose was behind that particular creation.

The experiment had been commissioned by one of the branches of the military. They had wanted to find out if it was possible to temporarily manipulate the biology of someone. They had given them access to some information they had found somewhere in Antarctica. To change them into the opposite gender for purposes of protection and infiltration. The tests had not revealed anything wrong with it, so they felt it was all right to allow Lex to try it. Thinking nothing of it-and wanting to test his son's strength-he had allowed them to try it. Besides, Lex had asked after it, had been able to postulate quite intelligently on the subject and offered some solutions that were both practical and applicable.

But the more he spoke, the colder and firmer his tone became, as if feeling Lillian's revulsion for his actions made him stronger in some way. He sat up straighter, then leaned back as though what he was saying was of no consequence to him. Cogitation returned to him and everything came sharply into focus. He was back in control of himself and would soon have the situation well in hand.

Though she played with the boy, she was listening to him, half horrified by his actions after the meteor shower. "You…experimented on Lex, turning him into a girl. She was then injured in the metero shower, nearly comatose from the trauma, and you turned her over to CPS?!?" she asked, voice almost deadly with murderous intent, "To be lost somewhere in the bureaucracy?"

"I would never ask Lex to do something I was not willing to do myself. He was interested," he insisted. "Lex took it freely and without coercion."

"You never ask Lex to do anything-you tell Lex plainly and in no uncertain terms what he will do," she bitterly retorted, "And you spell out the consequences firmly."

"I know where she is," he ignored her interruption, somewhat unsettled by the look. Though he knew his wife had sharp claws hidden underneath her rather civilized attitude, they had rarely been directed at him with such obvious intent. It gave him a thrill to have it directed at him. "I did not think Lex had survived. Once I found out that Lex had, I attained samples of her blood. I sent them to the labs. The experiment would have lasted only forty eight hours. Instead, the changes to her are permanent. The shower altered her biology completely."

"So, it makes it all right to abandon her?" she asked, horrified at his blatant disregard for the life they had created. Never before had she been so disgusted with her husband, not even after he found out about his various affairs. Those women may have had him for a time but he always came back to her in the end. This, though, this was something far different and she couldn't reconcile herself to this atrocious act of his.

"Lillian, I have plans for our…daughter," he said the word as though it was poison. "Plans that do not include being lost somewhere or fostered to some kind of idiot yokel, she is still a Luthor. As soon as I can, I will handle her adoption. I believe the Allans wanted a child."

"Lex is ours," she protested, hating the way he spoke about Lex. Hating the cold way he had denounced her worth and still planned Lex's life in the way he saw fit, "We should bring her home."

"I will not have that..that thing in this home, corrupting this boy! Lex is a bald monstrosity, a weak limb," he snapped, finally facing her. The fury in his eyes was absolute and uncontained, focused on her. "She needed to be purged from all of the weaknesses inside of her. Since that was not possible, Lex was cut away."

It was an old argument, one she never won. Lionel could not see beyond his own perceptions of strength and power. To him, Lex had never been strong or capable of living up to what he wanted of her. Fear gripped her as she realized what it meant for the innocent boy who sat on her lap, idly listening but not really understanding what was going on between them.

Lex had never had that problem. There always seemed to be an understanding about the way things worked in this family. She had always wondered about this precognitive sense of his, worried over what such a talent would do to him in the long run. Though she had to admit-if only to herself-it did keep him out of the worst of Lionel's angry attacks. But this child would not be able to learn these things. He was too innocent. If left to Lionel's tender mercies, he would be.

In order to save him, she had to sacrifice Lex.

"All right," she took a deep breath, firming her resolve. This boy needed her to protect him. This was something she could do, even if she didn't think she could do it well. "You need me at your side to accomplish this...unfortunate undertaking. The press will seek me out even if I remain estranged from you. They _**will**_ come after me, seeing blood in the water and I refuse to run again."

"I appreciate that," he dryly interrupted, stilling at her look.

"You may not think so in a moment," she warned, somewhat amused. "I have two conditions before I agree to do anything, Lionel. And the first means the most to me-you must leave Lex alone and out of any of your devilish plans. She's been through enough at your hands. Grant her as normal a life as she can possibly have now."

"Lillian," he started.

"No-you leave Lex alone. You're good at that," she bitterly spat out. But there was a firmness in her eyes that pierced his intently. "Or this whole charade ends now. I could ruin you, and for Lex and this boy, I will."

She was not just referring to his partnership with Morgan Edge and Lionel knew it.

He gnawed his lip, it was a small thing to ask of him. And yet, it was dangerous in ways that he could already see spiraling out of his control. From all that he'd heard-and he had kept watch on the strangely bald and silent child from the moment he heard of her arrival-Lex had no memory of anything before the shower. She did not speak.

But that did not mean that she would be in that condition forever. With time and the proper care, even the worst of wounds healed and their child had been visited by a kind woman who helped her and seemed to love the little freak. If what he heard was anything to go on, she wanted to adopt her. It was this healing that caused Lionel the most fear. If he left her alone, he would not be able to monitor her, not be able to ward off the danger if-and when-it came.

And he was no fool, he knew that it would come.

Lex was a Luthor with all the survival skills that name entailed. She would no be content with mediocre, she would press for the truth. Within her body, the truth of who and what she was would scream out against the injustice of her life. She would search for her identity with the ruthless passion that was a part of them and she would find what she sought.

He would not hide that information from her. Even now, he needed to test his child, find out her measure. She was born an Luthor and no name change would alter that.

Still, his wife was right. If this was too work, he needed her help-if for no other reason than to keep the press happy and away from prying to deeply into their secrets. They were very fond of his wife and she knew how to play them. "And your second condition," he slowly agreed, silently promising that he'd keep an eye on Lex anyway.

"You follow my lead," she replied, keeping cool in the face of his concession. There was no softening of her posture. It remained stiff and unyielding. "Has this boy had a full exam? What is his approximate age? Any damage caused by the meteor shower?"

"There was a preliminary exam to make sure he was fine but I wanted our doctor to examine him in depth. The last thing I needed was for some incompetent fool to harm him. There were no injuries at all. As for his age, he doesn't talk much, just phrases and words he's picked up. I would not place his age over four, unless the boy is slow for his age. Mentally deficient in some manner," he added thoughtfully, knowing it was a distinct possibility. "His height seems to suggest a child between five and seven."

Jangling her bracelet once more, she flipped her wrist several time, watching as he studied it intently. "Can you take this off?" she softly asked. He glanced up at her momentarily before looking back at the bracelet. There was something in his eyes as he reached out and undid the hidden clasp. Smiling happily, he showed it to them, waiting anxiously for her pronouncement on his achievement.

"He's certainly not slow, so young but tall for his age," she observed, before turning to the boy and hugging him, "Very clever of you, Julian," she added, kissing his cheek.

The boy yawned sleepily, hand tightly clenching the bracelet as his eyelids drooped. Without breaking his hold, she took the ends of the bracelet and wrapped it about his wrist.

"I would guess he's no younger than three, possibly four. But only a full physical will determine how old he is. Did he sleep the whole trip here?" she continued, as though she had not heard what she called him. But she knew-she knew who this boy had to be. It was the only way she could live with her choice, by giving this boy the name Lex had chosen.

Lionel shook his head, deeply shaken to hear what she called the boy. That was to be the name of their second child had he lived. "He only fell asleep five minutes before we arrived. From what the hospital staff said, he didn't sleep at all."

"He can't be Lex," she reiterated her silent conclusion. Her look silenced him, "A difference in a year can be explained but five or six years? No, this boy will have to be…Julian," though she had not stumbled the first time, now she did. Lillian wondered if it was because she was not talking to him. "The official story will be that Lex died in Smallville's meteor shower. Julian found you there when he escaped from my watch. In your shock, you didn't want to deal with reporters hammering you over the death of one son and the injury of another. I trust that you made sure there were no pictures?"

"Do you really think that people will believe that he got all the way to Smallville by himself," he skeptically asked, pointing out one of the major flaws in her plan. Though if he was being truthful, he would admit that it was a good plan. "And how do we explain the fact that no one has heard of our second child?"

"I was in the area, Lionel-charity event, remember? The one you insisted I go to in order to create _good will_ towards Luthor Corp," she acidly replied. "As for his birth, I am sure you remember as do I a certain pregnancy of five years ago. The end result is why I took Lex and left you, secluding myself. I needed to be away from you, from this world you created, and I needed time to recover. I could no longer handle the stress of your businesses and the social life I was required to maintain in order to help you out."

Lionel remembered that period all to well. It was mostly characterized by long, seemingly endless arguments over things he did not even recall. Her second pregnancy had definitely been far worse than her first-and lasted longer. Lex had been three weeks premature. In contrast, Julian has been a month overdue.

Though he really didn't want to bring it up, he said, "The baby was lost before he was born and it nearly killed you."

"A fact that only you and I know as the others involved were killed in an earthquake. Since then, I have kept a low profile, hidden in villages that are so remote, there is hardly any access unless you have the right kind of resources and money. Lex was in school, I had no reason to be seen as everyone knew how difficult my pregnancy was. My habit of going into seclusion after giving birth is well known. Most will think this was just a vacation. As for servants, Anna is my woman as Dominic is you. She will not betray me," she rose to her feet.

Walking to the door, she paused and looked back at him, "Take care of things while I put Julian down. Oh, and Lionel?"

"Yes?" he absently asked, already dialing the phone on the stand by his chair.

"Leave Lex alone-I mean it," her voice was softer than the hard look in her eyes as she reiterated her first condition. Turning, she left him alone.

"Anna," she greeted the tall, stern blonde with a slight, pained smile. The cool brown eyes never left hers, never showed a sign of shock as she accepted the sleeping baby. "See that Julian gets a bath when he wakes up from his nap. I am afraid that he shall no longer get to spend time with his brother. He was lost in the devastation." Her voice barely wavered on the lie.

The stern expression softened momentarily, seeing what her lady would not reveal, "I am sorry for your loss, ma'am."

"Thank you," she murmured, watching her leave. It was only when she was completely alone that she allowed the tears to fall. "Lex," it was an almost feral cry of grief and pain. She fell to her knees, leaning against her bed, sobbing helplessly. The comforter clutched in her hand, she jerked on it as though it could hide the agony she felt tearing through her.

Her baby, her only child, lost to her in some hick town and all because she had believed Lionel's promise. She had believed him when he said no harm would come to Lex. That Lex would enjoy the tour of his lab, to see what new creations his scientists were working on. Lex had always been fascinated by labs and the many ways science had improved the lives of humans.

Lillian could see his face when he took apart his first inhaler, trying to see how it worked. How curious he'd been that such a tiny thing could give him the life giving oxygen he so desperately needed to live. He had taken it apart and then put it back together when he saw Lionel's displeasure.

She would never believe him again-_**NEVER**_.


	3. The Kents and the Visitor

Rated: G  
Disclaimer: I don't own _Smallville, Superman_, _Lex or Lionel Luthor_. They belong to DC Comics, Warner Brothers Entertainment, and the creators of _Smallville_ (the show) itself, Al Gough and Miles Millar.  
Genre: Alternate Universe. GenderBending. One Shot (unless my muse decides differently).  
Summary: At the Kents, what will happen to Lex because of the physical changes caused by the meteor shower.  
Author's Note: I don't really know how to write a stutter well, so I do hope that it comes off all right. _sighs_ That is one thing that I truly worry about.

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Martha watched as Alexa blinked, the eye drops soothing her irritated eyes, knowing it was only a temporary relief for her. Even the glasses she had adopted did not adequately protect her from all the things that could damage her eyes. As much as they tried to work around it, the truth could no longer be ignored.

Alexa needed to have an eyelash surgery, one that they could not afford.

She wanted to call her father but did not. While he had been willing to help them find Alexa, he did not approve of their plan to adopt her. He had been more open to them fostering Pete because he was a boy and would be more helpful on the farm. The old fashioned stance her father occasionally took annoyed her to no end.

Thinking about Pete, a wistful smile crossed her face. His family had finally been found and were returning for him. Pete was excited and Alexa…tried to be happy for him. But Martha couldn't help but think that the girl felt betrayed by him.

Betrayed by Pete's happiness at being reunited with his family, feeling the loss personally. She had latched onto him as a partner and now, she was losing him.

"M…m…mom," Alexa quietly stammered, glasses firmly in place. "M…m…may I b..b..be ex…ex…excused? D…d…dad n…n…needs my h…help."

"Go on with you," she hugged her quickly, watching as she walked out, fiddling with her glasses nervously. "Alexa, I know those are a pain for you be you must leave them on until we find some other way to protect your eyes."

Alexa nodded, her hand dropping guiltily. Martha wished for an eye roll or exasperated _mom_. It would certainly make Alexa seem more real, more at home among them. Though she should be grateful that after six weeks, her stammer was finally easing off. Alexa could almost get through a full conversation without stumbling that often.

Pete came running in and grabbed her hand, tugging on it impatiently, "Come on. Mr. Kent wants to shows us how to pitch hay into the loft."

Martha stiffened and had to bite her lip to keep from protesting. This was a farm and she could not keep coddling Alexa. "Honey, get your handkerchief and hat for added protection."

"G…g…give me a m…m…minute, P…P…Pete," she said, grabbing the desired items. With practiced ease, she wrapped the handkerchief around her head, making sure that it was tight around the glasses before putting on the baseball cap. "Okay, I…I…I'm re…re…ready to g…g…get to w…w…work."

"You still talk funny," Pete commented before pulling her out the door and down the stairs.

"I…I…Is th..that b…b…bad?" Alexa asked apprehensively.

"Nah, it's you," he shrugged it off.

"Hurry up!" Jonathan hollered, "This works won't finish itself!"

"Co…co…coming, d...d...dad!" Alexa grinned and laughed lightly, stumbling when a the harsh voice entered her head, _A Luthor does not laugh, Lex_.

"Alexa?" Jonathan called, seeing her stumble and quickly stepped up to where they were.

"F…f…fine, dad, I ju…ju…just mi…mi…missed the st…st…step," she replied, forcing a smile. It did not reach her eyes. Quickly, she walked out into the light and followed them into the barn, watching as he showed them what to do. After a moment, she picked up the pitchfork and tried to imitate him perfectly.

Jonathan stepped back after a moment and watched the two children work. Pete, being around farms his whole life, sort of knew what to do. His technique could use some work but he couldn't fault the boy for his enthusiasm. Of course, more hay ended up on him than where it needed to be. Still, it was a nice sight.

Focusing on Alexa, he noted how carefully she moved-more carefully than her eye condition warranted. It was so carefully choreograph, he could tell that she was worried about doing it wrong. She was stiff and he couldn't help but wonder just what Lionel had done to make her so afraid to let go and enjoy the work.

By her every move, he could see that she was striving for perfection. Alexa may not remember anything of her life before the shower but it was painfully obvious that she still retained her _Luthor_ training.

The sound of a car approaching caught his attention and he turned, staring at the black limo that was pulling up the road suspiciously. "Pete, Alexa, go into the loft and stay there. Do you have your eye drops?" he asked, watching them climb the stairs quickly-even Pete seemed subdued.

They were children but after the way the government officials had been sniffing around Smallville, taking a closer look at the meteor rocks and anyone who'd had contact with them, they knew to be silent and stay hidden when told. It was no way to for them to live.

It rolled to a stop and the driver got out, going to the back and opening the door. A trouser clad leg appeared, followed by the body of a dark haired woman. Jonathan walked towards her, arms crossing his chest as he came to a stop. She looked at him, "Mr. Jonathan Kent?" her voice was soft, genteel.

"Yes?" he replied, noting the relief that colored her expression-and did not leave. "May I help you, Mrs…?"

"Lillian Luthor," she introduced herself, holding out her hand, an anxious expression in her eyes.

After a moment, he accepted it, "Mrs. Luthor."

"Jonathan?" Martha called out, a slight waver in her voice as she stood on the porch. Having heard the car, she had stopped preparing lunch and had gone to investigate. After all of the interruptions of the past few weeks, she was wary of anything unusual. It was obvious that she had heard the woman's name and that she had also taken stock of the woman's expression-sick and hopeful. "Why don't you both come in? The children should be fine for now."

He made a gesture for Lillian to precede him and she nodded, pausing only to speak to someone in the limo, "Anna? If Julian should wake up before we are done, bring him inside."

"Of course, ma'am," she replied, looking around distastefully. It was obvious she did not think much of the farm. And it was doubly obvious that she did not think _this_ farm was suitable for her elegant lady to visit.

The door closed behind them and Martha led them into the den. "Mrs. Luthor," she began, "I hate to be rude but why are you here?"

"A direct woman, I like that. I am here because I would like to see the little girl you are planning to foster. The strange, bald one," she came directly to the point.

"Why?" Jonathan asked, his hand clasping Martha's own. He could feel the vibrations thrumming through her-she wanted to bolt and take Alexa far away from Mrs. Luthor. "And it's adopt, not foster. We think of her as our daughter and can't wait for it to be made legal."

"Of course, I'm sorry. I meant no offense to you or your wife. But I know the truth," she said, "As does Lionel. I just need to see her, just once. Then, I will be gone. Not only that, but I will do everything in my power to keep Lionel away from you and yours."

Martha didn't want to bring Alexa in. The adoption, as mentioned, wasn't finalized. It wasn't even fully legal as her parents were still alive and hadn't signed over parental rights to her. They could lose Alexa to her mother if she remembered everything when she saw her.

But then she looked into the dark eyes and saw a tremendous pain there. As much as she wanted to hold onto Alexa, to hide her away from this truth, she could not deny a mother her own child so callously. If she was in this position, she'd want that same consideration.

"I'll go get her," she said, moving to the door before she could change her mind. Behind her, she could hear the sound of awkward silence descending upon Jonathan and Lillian. She entered the barn and looked up, tears hiding in her eyes. "Alexa, Pete, come on down. Things are safe-and there's someone I'd like you both to meet at the house."

Pete was down and out the door, excitement back in his steps. Alexa followed more slowly, looking at Martha with a grave and concerned expression on her face, eyes reddened by the exposure to the hay. "M…m…mom, a…a…are y…y…you w…w…well?"

Martha rested a hand on her shoulder, barely focusing on her, "I will be in a little while. How are your eyes?"

"Sore," she quietly admitted, holding out the bottle of eye drops. "W…w…would y…y…you h…h…help m…m…me?"

Martha smiled, blinking away the tears. "Of course, sweetie, but let's wash our hands and rise out your eyes first." Once finished with the task, they could no longer delay the inevitable and walked into the house. Taking off her hat and the handkerchief, they left it in the kitchen. Pete's voice carried down the hall, excitedly chattering with another young voice.

The sight of the young boy on Lillian's lap started Martha, especially the affectionate smile on her face. The boy was talking in some strange language interspersed with English that made no real sense to the adults but Pete seemed to understand him just fine-when he stopped talking long enough to take a breath. The boy paused in his speech, somehow hearing them and turned towards them as they entered the room and he pushed off Lillian's lap, tottering over to them, a curious look on his face.

He smiled and stared up at her, a puzzled look coming as she did nothing more that look back at him. His hand reached up and traced a line down her face. For a moment, she tensed but then relaxed, a smile briefly coming to the fore. The moment passed when he was jerked away and she faded into Martha's shadow.

"I am sorry about that, he's not usually so forward with others. Julian, that was rude and inappropriate," Anna scolded him, holding him tightly to make sure he was looking at her.

"Sad," he mulishly said, "Hurt. I make better."

"Anna, leave Julian alone. It is wonderful that he is reaching out to others," Lillian rose and walked over to them, trying to see her child. "Hello, young lady. I've met Pete and he's told us a little about you. I am Lillian and this is my son, Julian."

Alexa peered at her from around Martha, nodding once before withdrawing again.

Lillian had seen enough in that moment. She bit back a gasp of pain, never having dreamed that the damage had been _**that**_ excessive. It was all she could do to _**not**_ embrace the child whose eyes were shadowed, not only with hideous glasses but doubt and fear.

Lionel would eat Lex alive if he ever got near her, the defenses of a lifetime had been stripped away from her, leaving only a naked child in its wake.

"You've very pretty," she managed to say in a normal voice. "Do you have a name?"

Martha nudged her and she took a deep breath, willing herself to speak up, "A…A…Alexa, ma'am. A…A…Alexa Cl…Cl…Clark Kent. Th…th…that is who I w…w…want to be. I…i…it's ta…ta…taking a li…li…little time to g…g…get ev…ev..everyth..th…thing s…s…settled a…a…after wh…wh…what ha…ha…happened."

_Don't you know me_? Lillian wanted to scream at her, not sure how to take the blank look in those familiar gray eyes. "I wish you luck," she murmured, making sure to include them all. "Tell me, how does Smallville feel about my husband?"

"Why?" Jonathan asked, watching Martha's expression. She looked relieved, as though a battle had been fought and won-by her.

"No reason except that we have been talking about the fact that the city is no place to raise a child like Julian. As I inherited some land here, I was thinking about moving here. But I do not want to expose him to any ill will by doing so. He's already gone through so much, what with losing his older brother," she stopped, choking on the word. Even after all this time and all the practicing she'd done, the lie felt heavy on her tongue.

She also did not want to think about some of the abnormalities that Anna had brought to her attention. It was hard enough to keep them away from Lionel, who was rather obsessed with the space ship found in the field not far from where he'd discovered Julian.

"Down, Anna, wanna see Lex," he demanded.

"Do not take that tone of voice with me, young man. I will not hesitate to take you over my knee and give you a sound thrashing for such behavior," Anna warned.

"Sorry, pwease, put me down," And to his credit, he did sound regretful. After a moment, his feet touched the ground and he was at Martha's side, "LEX! Where d'ya go?" he asked, sounding lost and sad.

He was completely unaware of his mother's gasp of pain and Anna's fierce glare. Turning, he looked at Pete, "Where's Lex?"

"You mean Alexa?" Pete frowned at him, then at Martha, "Why's she gots so many names?"

"Because we did not know what her real name was until dad called to tell us," Martha replied, lips twitching in amusement as his exasperation.

"He don't like her," Pete said, grabbing Julian's hand and tugging him along. "She's prob'ly in her room." The two boys disappeared, leaving the adults in silence-a very tense silence.

Lillian finally stood up, drawing a deep breath as she did so. "Does she remember? Is that why she bears the name Alexa?" she asked, trying to kill her hope. She could not take Lex home with her, though everything inside wished that she could, especially after the way Julian had latched onto her.

"We don't know what she remembers, if anything at all. Even now, she had to relearn how to read, write, and do basic arithmetic. She's only now begun to speak in full sentences, although she does stutter. But we figured it would be easier for her if we gave her a name closer to the one she already had," Jonathan said, still keeping an eye on Martha, though it now included her.

"Are you here to take her away?" Martha tightly asked, staring hard at the dark haired woman, "Is that why you really came? With Julian in tow?"

"No, Lionel would completely destroy her," she mournfully said. "Still, I wish to be a part of her life for as long as I can. Tell me, what are you going to do about her lack of eyelashes?" her question was rather abrupt.

"We're saving what we can to get her the required surgery," Martha said after a moment.

"Let me pay for it," Lillian almost pleaded with them.

"We don't accept hand-outs," Jonathan flatly refused, "Especially from someone who is not family."

"To you," she shot back. "Mr. Kent, if I may be as blunt as you are, Alexa is _**my**_ child and, while I can no longer raise her, I will see to her needs. She needs that surgery before her eyes are permanently damaged. I have both the funds and the ability to see that it is done immediately and discretely. Do it for her, glasses will not protect her eyes for much longer."

"It's too much," he protested.

"It is not enough," she countered evenly. "But it is the best that I can do without raising Lionel's awareness of her."

She hesitated, then continued, "Recently, I have been experiencing black outs, the doctors aren't sure what I have. I need Anna to take care of me while they run tests, this is another reason for my desire to raise Julian away from Metropolis. I will take care of Alexa's medical bills if you and your wife will take care of Julian. What I am offering you is a trade. You will take care of Julian and be recompensed the salary of a nanny, which will be used for Alexa's surgery and anything else medical that may come up. In addition to that, the money will also go towards the upkeep of your farm in any way you see fit until such time as I am able to resume caring for Julian."

"Jonathan, please," Martha's voice was quiet on her plea. Lillian was giving them what they needed for Alexa in a way that his pride could accept-it was an honest trade off. Martha was aware of just how much a nanny would be paid. It would be more than enough to take care of anything Alexa may need. They had to accept it, no child's pain was worth his pride. "Alexa needs this surgery."

"All right," he agreed, feeling like he'd eaten something incredibly sour. He didn't like this situation, feeling that it put them in debt to a Luthor-and that it would come back to haunt them later on. "But I want a clear record of the expenses, there will be no imbalance in our dealings."

"That's fair," she agreed, relaxing at last. "Anna, go get Alexa's files from the car. You know, the documents that Lionel and I signed, giving away our parental rights over her." And that had not been a easy fight to win, but she pushed those thoughts aside. It was in the past now, over and done with.

"Very well," Anna went to the car, somewhat resigned to the situation. While she acknowledged that they were good people, Lex was a Luthor. She had a birthright that did not include milking cows and marrying some rustic farmer.

"Alexa, what are you doin'?" Pete asked, head titled to the side.

"Hiding," her reply was muffled as she crawled further under the bed. A sneeze erupted as did an _ow_ when she bumped her head on the floor.

"Why?" he asked, watching as Julian followed her.

"B…b…because th…th…that l…lady sc…sc…scares m…m…me," she replied.

"Mrs. Luthor? But she's nice" he protested, "Not snobby like that Mrs. Small."

Alexa peered out at him for a moment, "Th…th…that doe..doe…does not ma…ma…matter. She still sc…sc…scares me. Sh…sh…she l…l…looks li…li…like sh…sh…she wants to ta…ta…take m…m…me away."

"Wiff me?" Julian asked hopefully. "Come home wiff me?"

"Th…th…this is my h…h…home," she said.

"Julian,' he proudly said, pronouncing it exactly as he'd been taught. "And you my Lex."

"My name is Alexa," she said, tilting her head to study him. Curiously, she did not notice that the stammer that had dogged her for so long was no where to be heard, "And I'm going to be a Kent."

"Me a Kent too?" he asked hopefully.

"You're a Luthor," she told him, "Not a Kent. Your mother is downstairs with my parents."

"You can't stay under the bed," Pete interrupted, seeing Julian's chin wavering. He didn't want to hear the boy cry. "How would you eat?"

"You c…c…could get m…m…me f…f…food until you l…l…leave," she said, looking back at him as though that was obvious.

"Who'd I play with?"

"ME!" Julian shouted, "You play wiff me!"

"You should not be so demanding. People do not like to be ordered around," Alexa told him, disappearing again.

"Sowwy, but I'm 'lone," he sniffed. "I had a big brover but he's gone far 'way. His name is Lex-like yours."

She crawled out, "Come with us, Julian. Have you ever seen chickens?"

"Or real cows?" Pete asked, relieved that she wasn't hiding anymore.

Crawling out, he watched them, "You eyes is red," he said instead of answering their questions.

She sighed, going across the hall to the bathroom, washing her eyes and face again. Placing her eye drops in, she blinked until the stinging sensation had gone and put on her glasses. Opening the cupboard, she pulled out a scarf and tied it around her head.

"Why're you bald?" Julian asked, staring at her curiously. "Are you sick?"

"The meteor shower took my hair," she whispered, covering up. "Let's go outside before it's time for you to leave."

"I wanna stay," he mulishly said, but followed without further complaint. "Lex?"

"Yes?" she asked, becoming resigned to the fact that he was calling her Lex. Pete snatched some cookies as they walked through the kitchen.

"I think you pretty wiffout hair," he solemnly said, grabbing her hand. "Do you like me?"

"I think that I could learn to like you," she slowly answered, startled by his action, "Given enough time to get to know you."

Julian smiled widely, "Kay," and pulled her at a run after Pete.


	4. Themyscira

Author's Note: I'm so sorry for the long delay in updates. The place where I work has been crazy with scheduling hours because of the holiday season and the fact that school was out (_I work in retail_). But now, things have settled down enough so that I can get back to work on my stories. The other reason for the delay is Lionel Luthor (_anyone who knows the show knows what a pain he can be-especially when he decides to try to change the plot on me_) and the fact that in the last chapter I mention that he found the space ship. I can't have that because it wouldn't take him to long to figure out its connection with Julian and then where would I be? So, I had to figure out that nasty little problem. I'm still not sure what I did works out all that well. Stupid Lionel Luthor, making a mess out of _**everything**_ already established in my mind.  
Thanks to all my readers and reviewers.  
Rated: G  
Disclaimer: I don't own _Smallville, Superman_, _Batman,_ _or Wonder Woman_. They belong to DC Comics, Warner Brothers Entertainment, and the creators of _Smallville_ (the show) itself, Al Gough and Miles Millar.  
Genre: Alternate Universe. Gender Bending.  
Summary: Help arrives from an unexpected corner for Lillian and Julian.

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"_Hippolyta_," a voice called in the night, breaking the stillness of the room.

The queen's blue eyes snapped open, seeking the form in the room. "Yes?" she quietly asked, sleep erased from her voice. Surprise was also hidden as she recognized the voice of the goddess Athena. "I am at your disposal, my lady Athena." Her hand brushed back the dark hair clouding her face.

"_I have a mission for you. One that is far different from the other missions that have been asked of you. It concerns a matter of great import. There will be damage done to Patriarch's World because a special child did not go into safety. Damage that will extend to Themyscira if we are not watchful, not careful_."

"Child?" her puzzlement was clear. What did a child have to do with the Amazons? Themyscira rarely communicated with Patriarch's World, they only went out there when their gods asked it of them. With very few exceptions, their world was self-contained and untouched by mortal hand.

"_Yes, a very powerful child who, if allowed to grow unchecked, will bring about much sorrow. I have already told you why this is being brought to your attention. The child presents danger to the mortal world-and to Themyscira_."

At this, she sat up and lit the taper by her bed, illuminating the room in the glow. Though it was golden warm, the chill of the words Athena spoke remained. "What must I do?" she stopped, knowing instantly what the goddess wanted. It was all too obvious to her, though it left a bitter taste in her mouth to speak the words. "Diana. You wish me to send Diana into that world, to take care of this child. Is she to commit murder to save the world?"

The dark brown head shook, her reply was gently chiding. But understanding shone in her silver eyes, knowing well what was inside the woman's heart. "_No, murder is never a true answer for it solves nothing in the end. I do wish Diana to travel into Patriarch's World-but to be a friend to the child. A friend is more needful than a mentor and she is wise enough, mature enough at her age, to ably help the child_."

Hippolyta wasn't sure this was any better than her first thought. She had waited so long for a child, since time immortal it sometimes felt. Diana was a gift from above, one she cherished and loved with all her soul. A child who would follow in her footsteps. One she could honorably leave her crown and kingdom to when she decided to retire, if she ever did. Diana was a good girl, wise beyond her years.

Though she had known that Diana was destined for great things, she had not thought her destiny would lead her away from Themyscira and so soon. Could she do it? Did she have enough love for her gods and goddesses, for her child, enough strength to let go, to do what she was being asked to?

"Where would she go?" she asked at last.

"_To a woman you know well until she has, not only adjusted to the world but has learned to hide among the people there. They are still young and impressionable, still easy to startle with things they do not understand. But they will learn for they are a curious people, full of generosity and kindness-when they allow it to show through. For some reason, they see kindness as a weakness of some kind_," she added, lips twisted up in a sardonic grin.

"She will never be comfortable or happy about living a lie," Hippolyta pointed out. She knew her daughter, had taught her to never be ashamed of who and what she was. Though young, the five year old had enough confidence and presence of mind to handle whatever came her way. It was sometimes very worrying for her mother, truth be told. Diana had all the confidence of a child with none of the caution that her gifts warranted.

"_Diana has accepted this mission_," she gently informed her. "_She only waits for your permission before she leaves_."

"Why do you even ask me then, Lady Athena?" she asked, somewhat bitterly. It sounded as though everything was already set in motion. They didn't need her to tell them what to do.

"_It was she who had the vision, my child, and she who sought my counsel. While she will leave-there is nothing you can do about that inevitability-her mission will be much easier to bear if she knows that she has your love and support_."

"She has yet to master her god blessed strength," she pointed out. It was a weak argument when she knew that Athena was right.

It would be easier on Diana if she knew that her mother was behind her in this. That she always had it was not in question, not really. Diana was strong in ways that had nothing to do with her physical strength. Hippolyta knew her daughter well; they were far too similar in many ways. If she had seen what her daughter had, Hippolyta would be seeking a way to help the child, to save her world.

But the queen doubted her own ability to let her daughter go out into the world. She remembered being there when she had first come into the world, how strange it had been. Springing into the world, full grown and blessed with divine protection, she and her people still had much to adjust to for the world was a violent place. Violent but beautiful and full of so much potential that they had found it easy to love the world and do their best to help the people find their way to peace.

Though they had been driven out by those who had been afraid of their ways, they still loved the world. Still wished to help and so, when asked, they went out to help when called upon. It was even easier to remember her more recent trip, though it was over forty years ago. The world that man inhabited was seductive; it was different and charged with an energy that would be unknown to the young princess. There were new ideas and entertainments to be found.

In Patriarch's World, Diana would be far from them; far from the protection of the gods and goddesses they served and devoted their lives to. She would be alone, away from those who believed as she did. Who knew the things that she did. And while modern civilization had come far from the days when the Amazons had been forced to flee that world, they still had much to learn of the ways of peace and equality.

Then there was her quiet fear that Ares, the brutal war god, would get to her and destroy her as he'd tried to do the Amazons through Heracles. It was through his treachery and deceit that they had been forced to flee. That they had lost part of their sisterhood to war and death, her heart still ached from the loss of her sister and her dear niece.

"_Away from Themyscira she will grow into them slowly, naturally. Unlike here, there is enough distance from us that she will not be noticeably stronger than those she is surrounded by. I know that is one of your fears but she will never truly be far from our reach. This distance will protect her from her own abilities. As she grows into a young woman, so will her strength and the other gifts she is blessed with until she is who she was born to be. If not for this terrible occurrence, we would not take her from you so soon,_" Athena replied, serenity never wavering. "_Your sacrifice will not go unrewarded, my child_."

"I need no reward, mighty Athena, just for the safety of my Diana."

"_I can only say again that she will be safe. While we may not be able to keep as close an eye on her in there as we are here, she will be watched over_," her words gently reiterated what she'd previously said. Though it seemed rather needless to the goddess, she understood that this was something that Hippolyta needed to hear repeatedly, even if she could not acknowledge the words as they were spoken.

Her mind accepted them while her heart struggled to accept them. In order to comfort her child, she would keep saying them. Athena spoke on, keeping her words soft and kind, "_Diana will be cared for, taught in a fashion similar to what she already knows. Do you remember the young daughter of Agostos the Nereides rescued and brought to you_?"

She smiled wanly, the sight of a young blonde girl flashed in her mind, "Young Julia Deneiros? She was the first child to step foot on Themyscira in at least three thousand years, a darling and bright child. She took to our culture and ideas very well. It was hard to see her go."

"_A few years ago, she married and had a young daughter, only two years younger than Diana. Her name is now Julia Kapatelis and she is a teacher of Greek culture as well as an archaeologist. If you are agreeable, she will go to her home to learn the language and societal customs she will be surrounded by. There she will be fostered. As Julia is now a widow, there will be no questions about who and what Diana truly is. She will not be alone for Julia has a daughter, Vanessa who I imagine will become a friend and sister to her. Under her care, Diana would flourish. Julia's main study has been to figure out the reality of the Amazon society, what they really believed and how they lived. It is her background that will help Diana keep to the old ways while learning to adapt to the new ones she will need to survive_."

"Why can you not just turn back time?" she asked, now desperate for some other solution.

"_It would not work. We already interfered with time to help the child, to protect this one's identity from exposure. To do so again, with selfish intent, would cause a great fracture in time. One that's outcome we could never predict_."

"Who is this child?" she asked, knowing it was the question she should have asked in the first place. It was the only one that really mattered in the long run. The child's coming was changing everything for them.

"_Kal-El, last son of Krypton_."

Hippolyta's eyes widened, she knew that name well for they had sheltered several of the refugees who'd fled Krypton when General Zod had launched his civil war. Though most of them had since left to live in another part of the Galaxy, in safety, they still communicated sporadically with them. The others, who had not fled to start another life, had returned to rebuild Krypton. She had been sorry to see them go for they had become very good friends. It was through them that she learned of the many great Ruling Houses of Krypton, including the House of El.

One woman in particular stood out for she was different from the other Kryptonians.

Lara Lor Von was compassionate, unlike many of her people who were emotionless and cold, rather stern and unfeeling. She was interested in learning all that they had, and she'd valiantly tried to share these lessons with her people. Some had learned while others disdained anything such a _primitive culture _as theirs had to share with them.

Not content to wait with her hands in her lap until she heard about what was going on at home, she tirelessly worked to ease her husband's burdens. Even though she was still angry that he had sent her away to be safe, she wished to help him. Under General Phillipus' tutelage, she had learned the arts of war. She had learned the art of peace. Hippolyta had hoped that it worked out for her.

But this news told a different story, something had gone wrong. If Lara's son was on Earth, it was her duty to help her friend's son out. It was something that Lara would have done for her if the need had ever arisen. Still, would not Donna do the job as well as Diana? In almost every way, they mirrored each other.

"_It is the difference between them that causes us worry. The boy is in the house of Luthor. And while Lillian Luthor is strong, she is not well. There is only so much of Apollo's healing her body can take before it collapses_."

Her nose wrinkled distastefully. She knew the name of Luthor all to well. During World War Two, she had won the right to serve the world as Wonder Woman. Many a battle had she fought for acceptance of who and what she was, for her own group of specialized warriors. She'd run into the young Lachlan Luthor, the young man had not been one of them but he wished to be.

He had a deft hand for subterfuge and technologies that aided them several times. When necessary, he could lie so convincingly that even she could not tell it was a lie without applying the lasso to him. Lachlan had been of great help to them many times for he could get in places that they, with their rather colorful appearances, could not.

Yet, there was something about him that did not sit well with her. While he was definitely opposed to the Nazi movement, it unnerved her to find out that he was impressed with their methods of gathering allies and accomplishing their work. And then she found out how much he delighted in torturing and killing…she could only be grateful that she'd found out before he could tarnish the Justice Society to badly.

Surely Lara would have been more careful when she'd sent her child to Earth. Of Jor-El, she could not say the same. She had little confidence in him. The man had been far to arrogant in his own abilities and the rightness of his position to even _consider_ that something could go wrong with anything he planned.

While she could not doubt the man's genius, she did not care for his attitude. Genius was something she knew well; she'd meet a few in her time. And she would not hold back rightful praise; Jor-El could rightly claim the title to being a scientific genius. His understanding of both the arcane and the yet to be discovered was incredible.

But he was a coldly unapproachable man who rarely listened to those who had more perception of matters that he knew nothing about, save what he read in books. She could not count the number of times she had to prevent Phillipus from flattening him.

It was only because of Lara that she allowed him to visit Themyscira, something she rarely allowed-the refugees aside.

Sighing, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, "She may go with my blessing."

Athena nodded solemnly, "_Thank you_."

"Mom?" Diana's voice was quiet in the ensuing silence of the goddess' departure. It was impossible to say when she had arrived or if she had been there the whole time. Her voice was devoid of any emotion, save a small tremble that gave away her nervousness. "Can I sleep here?"

The instinctive refusal sprang to her lips only to die as she realized that she might not see her for a long time. And that her daughter would, most likely, be a woman. "Of course, my dove," she tossed aside the covers, inviting her to join her.

As they both drifted off to sleep, Diana safely enfolded in her mother's arms, Hippolyta wondered if there was any way she could arrange for more of her people to get close to this Lionel Luthor, to keep watch on him until Diana was ready.

If Lionel Luthor was anything like his father, Lillian would need all the help she could get. Even though she didn't know the woman, she was concerned for her.

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General Phillipus wished she was wearing her armor when she saw her queen standing in the post-dawn light. The warm Mediterranean sun glinted off of her tightly bound dark brown hair as she studied the queen intently. Hippolyta's eyes were drawn, her face haggard, like she hadn't gotten enough sleep. There was the slightest look of betrayal in her eyes, one which she'd never seen before but had all of her protective instincts going on line. Something was wrong with their queen and it was up to them to help her fix it.

Looking at her companions, the grey eyed sorceress Magala and the black eyed priestess Niobe, she breathed out a sigh in relief. Looking at them, she felt rather underdressed. Niobe wore her traditional forest green chiton over the light cream slip. Her graying black hair covered by a veil, she looked every inch the priestess she was.

As for Magala, the woman never seemed to wear anything other than her dark purple robes and the veil that partially covered her scared face and light brown hair. While still a young woman, she had been badly injured in the war with Heracles. Injured in a way that had never healed, even after moving to Themyscira. If asked, she would say that it was the price she paid in order to practice her magic safely.

Behind them, young Clio stood. Her scroll in one hand, inked feather pen in the other. For once, her dark black hair-so deep in color it appeared to be blue in some lights-was pulled up into a bun, allowing no hair to escape to cover her eyes. Even her bangs had been forced into submission. Her chiton was formal and cleaned, giving her the appearance of someone who was totally business. It was as if she anticipated some momentous occasion or decision would be made and she needed to be ready.

Even though she was dressed in the blue robes of her status as main advisor, she felt ill prepared for this uneasy moment. Phillipus wished that she had not made the promise to Hippolyta that she would forgo her armored appearance at least one day a week, though she understood why the queen asked it of her. She was worried for her friend's mind. It was just that she felt very naked and defenseless, something she had vowed never to be again.

Niobe moved to the side, her dusky hand waving Phillipus forward. Though she was a priestess and should have been the first to approach the queen in this time of distress, she realized that it was the voice of her closest friend Hippolyta needed at the moment. Smoothing down her dress, she watched the two intently. Her scalp tingled and she wished to rub it, knowing that it would be futile for it was only imaginary.

"My Queen," she stopped and shook her head. "Hippolyta, is something wrong? Has there been a breech of security at Doom's Door? How many of our guards must I send out to contain the threat?"

"No, nothing like that, Phillipus," she replied with a weary smile. "Diana is to leave us soon, to learn in Patriarch's World their ways so as to best protect the last son of Krypton from the evil that surrounds him. I just…I'm exceptionally worried about her, alone out there with only Julia to remind her of our ways and beliefs."

The General's frown deepened, even as she nodded her understanding as to _**why**_ Diana had to leave them. Diana was extremely talented, gifted in ways that they were still discovering, still trying to figure out how she could control and best use them. Nevertheless, she was a child, a rather impressionable one at that. As Hippolyta rightly feared, she could be mislead. She could forget who she was. "The boy does not know who he is," she semi-asked, though it was apparent that he did not.

"He cannot know just yet. Young Kal-El is much to young to defend himself from the stings and blows of life-especially in the family he has entered into. The woman who is his new mother now is very ill, still strong enough to protect him from the father but there is no saying how long she will be able to do so. I am unable to get information about her condition for I no longer understand the way information travels in Patriarch's World. It has changed in the years since I was last there," she sighed.

"Where is the boy?" Magala asked, head tilted to the side. It was as though she was listening to something they could not hear.

"Metropolis, one of the larger cities in the state of Kansas. It one of the Midwestern states," she replied, though they were pleased that her listless and defeated tone seemed to be easing away and leaving behind it some life. "Unfortunately, when he came to Earth, his ship arrived there and he was found-by Lionel Luthor."

Phillipus tensed, knowing that name. "And Diana is to go there?"

"No, Julia lives in Boston, Massachusetts. It is farther North and to the East of Kansas, sitting on the Coast of the United States," Hippolyta studied them, focusing on Phillipus. There was something in her general's eyes she recognized, "Why?"

"I'll explain in just a moment if you will answer a few more questions. How is the princess supposed to help him if she is so far away? Is she to remain in Boston until she matures? If so, how will that help him? Surely he will have already grown into this threat that the gods fear."

She shrugged, "I don't know all the details. But what I know, I will tell you. Diana will only stay until she has acclimatized to the culture and the language of the Americans. It is very important that she do so or she will only be looked at suspiciously. From there she will move, though I'm not sure how, to Metropolis. I'm not even sure I know who she will stay with, though I have been told that Julia is a teacher, she may be able to get a job there so that Diana will retain a stable home life." Now, she looked at her curiously, waiting for the answer to her own question.

"Are there not schools that are devoted to specialized education? And I do not mean just schools for those with special needs, but schools that girls can go to? I know that there are schools that have only young men. Is it not possible that there are boarding schools for young girls as well?" she asked, "Why do we not create a school for her to go to? Populated and taught by some of us who are willing to go back into Patriarch's World? We were created to help mankind. If we do this, we could open it for young girls to learn of our ways in a nonthreatening environment."

"I can create excellent illusions for some of the younger women who wish to pose as students, both at the princess' age and at other various stages in life. It would help create this world, though I do not know if I can make this place of paideia be so unremarkable that it will seem that it has always been there," Magala offered, already thinking through the logistics of such a plan.

"It would be a challenge that I am eager to face. We have to step up to what she's been asked to do," Clio said, smiling slightly. "After all, we'll be her support system and place of comfort no matter what life she charts out in Patriarch's World. Plus, she may pay more attention to my history lessons that she does now if she sees the relevancy of them."

"What do you think, Niobe? Would getting involved on such a scale be seen as a violation of the gods' edict towards us that we remain separated from the world? With the exception of the calling of a great champion, we have never done anything like this before," Hippolyta asked, turning to the silent woman. The plan greatly appealed to the mother in her who was extremely reluctant let her little child go.

It was also an intriguing idea.

"I do not think it would be seen as a blasphemous action. Our gods have always been kind to us, always generous. They give us enough information to make our own decisions, to chart our own course," she slowly answered after thinking the plan over, giving the question the consideration that it needed. "In fact, it would not surprise me if this was something that Athena planned on."

Hippolyta nodded, "And you think this is a good idea?"

"I am not sure that it is a good idea," Niobe cautiously said, "But I believe that it is far better than to let the young princess go out into the world without reinforcements and a place of safety."

"We should put this before the Council," Hippolyta decided at last. "There are far to many things to be discussed and debated. Things that concern us all and I do not wish to make them without talking about it. Clio, how long would it take you to write the summons? I know Diana is to leave with Hermes today, so I do not wish this meeting to occur today. Perhaps in two days time, mid-afternoon might be the best time for it to occur."

Clio's dark head bobbed in excitement, "I'll get right on that."

"I shall go among the younger girls, see which are willing-and level headed enough-for such a journey and transformation. I believe that it will do no good to permanently separate Donna, so I know that she will go. But might I also suggest fair minded Mala and the humorous Cydippe as well? They have often been companions to the princess on her adventures and will add a sense of normalcy to her daily life. I also believe that they are adaptable enough and quick witted enough to handle whatever this situation throws at them. As friends, they will be supportive and yet, keep her in line if necessary. Especially Cydippe," Magala commented, already melting into the background. Her face pursed in thought, she vaguely heard the queen agreeing with her suggestions. With the help of the architect Timandra, they might just be able to find some appropriate building for the school-or they could create one.

Finally, only Phillipus and Hippolyta remained, a comfortable silence between them. At last, she sighed and looked at her oldest friend, knowing that she'd hear the words Hippolyta could not say out loud. "Do you think it would be wrong of me to go with them?"

Phillipus was quiet, formulating her reply. There was no sense of urgency to the queen's question and yet, there was a sense of desperation there that she couldn't ignore. Still, she would not rush, not wanting to make a mistake on something as important as this. "It all depends on your reasons for going, my queen," she finally replied.

"My friend, be honest with me," she quietly pleaded. "I don't know what to do and I feel like I…I don't know."

"Lyta," only their deep friendship allowed her to be so familiar with the queen, "Remember, you asked for honesty," she warned.

The queen took a deep breath and sat up straighter, looking at her. "I'm ready," she finally said, slim hands folded in her lap.

"As I said, it would depend on your motives for going. If I thought it was to honestly help and prepare the way for Diana, I would say no. I would tell you that it was not wrong at all. But it is my honest opinion that your reasons for going are selfish, they are to keep Diana by your side and out of harm's way." Seeing her open her mouth, she held up her hand and then sat down by her. Reaching out a hand, she waited until Hippolyta took it.

Squeezing comfortingly, she continued, "While this is not necessarily a bad thing for she is young, you may do more damage that is warranted. In trying to protect her, you may hinder her growth. If you could hold onto her and yet, let her learn as you do here, I would not worry. But you have been to Patriarch's World, you have lived there. I believe that out there, you would cling far to tightly to her."

Pained blue eyes met her understanding hazel ones, slowly nodding, "That is what I feared. I just, I fear that I will not see her as my little girl. She will be someone else's little girl. I fear losing her to the world."

"Stop pitying yourself," she snapped. "Diana is not going far, you have not been forbidden to see her. She will _always_ need her mother, even if she may not always admit to it, even if you fight, she will always need you. You need to learn to parent her in another way. Let her know you support her and love her, that she can always turn to you-and then, be there. Diana has her mission as you have yours."

"Is it pitying to want to keep her?"

"It is if you can only see your pain and unhappiness, ignoring the very real pain Diana is going through. You are losing her-she is losing not only you but everything she has ever known, ever loved. If we cannot implement this plan, she will have no one out there who is like her, who knows what she does. She will not even have the familiarity of our weather to comfort her. How do you think she feels? Especially since you have been up here since dawn?"

Her gaze went out to the beach where Donna and Diana were. Donna tried desperately to engage her sister but she only sat there, sifting sand through her fingers. Guilt filled her at the painful sight. She had been so wrapped up in what she was feeling and going through, she had really forgot that Diana was just a child-one who was being asked to make a great sacrifice.

One she could not truly understand in order to save the world.

The gods weren't even offering to take away her memory to make this new life and world easier to bear. Her memories would help her connect to Kal-El. They would keep her real out there, keep her true to herself. Even if it would be a struggle to retain her identity, Diana would know who and what she was.

Her head rose and turned to Phillipus' knowing eyes. Eyes that had only understanding, though they could have been filled with condemnation for the queen's behavior. "Go to her and show her that she does have your support."

"Thank you," she whispered as she rose and went to join her daughter.

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_Author's Note #2: The information I got about Wonder Woman is from various sources but mostly from the book "__Wonder Woman, the Ultimate Guide to the Amazon Princess__" by Scott Beatty. It is were I got the names and much of the details about the Amazons who populated Themyscira, though I had to make up much of the nitty gritty details about their appearance (hair color, eye color, etc). Lucky, they do show that the Amazons were a multi-cultured group of women, so that was rather easy to handle. Also, I had Jor-El being a little less careful of Kal-El's placement because I started writing this under the influence of his (I know it was really a fake Jor-El but because it went on for so long before the reveal, I was inspired by it) Kal-El must Rule Earth thing_.


	5. He was not supposed to die, Alfred

_Title: Shifted Destiny  
Rated: G  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Smallville, Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Arrow, Batman, or Spider-Man's characters. They belong to DC Comics, Warner Brothers Entertainment, Marvel Comics, Columbia Pictures, and the creators of Smallville (the show) itself, Al Gough and Miles Millar respectively.  
Genre: Alternate Universe. Gender Bending.  
Summary: The news hits Gotham.  
Author's Note: Just about done establishing this world and its parameters, the people who live here and their relationship to one another. Sorry that it's taken me so long to get back to this story. RL happens. I'm bouncing between this story and my SW stuff, so the updates may be sporadic but they **will** happen. I promise. Thank you, dear readers, for your continued support and steady patience. I couldn't do any of this without you. Also, in a few days I will be changing my penname to match my lj one - eryn-skynobi_.

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"Good morning, Master Bruce," the elderly appearing gentleman greeted the younger boy as he came into the solarium.

"Morning, Alfred," he yawned again, sitting down at the table.

"You look tired, sir. Excited, but tired," he observed, placing a plate in front of him.

"I think I finally found something to beat Alexander at this year," he grinned. Fond as he was of the other boy, he loved to beat him in academic games. It was truly one of the few pleasures he had at Excelsior Prep.

"That is good to hear, sir. It won't be something to cause him pain this time, right, Master Bruce?"

"Alfred, the last time was an accident. An accident caused by an error in my calculations. One that was unavoidable, even Alexander agreed with me about that," he replied, reaching for the newspaper. It was his own private belief that Oliver Queen had something to do with the accident. Until Alexander had showed up and matched Bruce step for academic step - though he had to admit that Alexander sometimes overtook him - Oliver and he had been good friends.

"Might I ask what it is you plan to astound the young Master Luthor with this time?"

Bruce grinned up at him, "I was working on something that would appeal to the huge comic geek inside of him. As much as he denies it, there's a part of him that wishes the fantastical elements of comic books was applicable in our world."

"I shall be sure to increase our damage insurance coverage then, sir," Alfred replied, watching his young charge eat.

"Alfred!" he protested, unfolding the paper. His gasp of pain literally choked his laughter.

"Is everything all right, sir?" he asked, moving quickly forward.

"He's gone, Alfred," he quietly informed him, "He's gone." As frail as Alexander had appeared to most of the boys of Excelsior – and they had every right to believe that because of his asthma and slight frame – Bruce had noticed something else.

The boy was similar to his father, Lionel Luthor. Not in physical stature but in something far more indefinable. There was something about them that just couldn't be described without meeting them personally. Both were veritable forces of nature, only Alexander was more contained.

There was an energy and a drive about the asthmatic boy that Bruce picked up on early in their acquaintance. The both of them had skipped ahead two years in school because of their natural – and highly gifted – level of intelligence. Even Alexander's six month hospital stay had not held him back. It fascinated him for he'd never come across anyone quite like Alexander Luthor.

He'd often heard that geniuses were peculiar. That they lived rather cloistered in their thoughts and actions, though he knew that he himself was not the same way. His parents had never allowed him to devote himself so completely to his studies that he never had time for anything else. They wanted him to _live_, not just experience things through the shallow filter of knowledge.

With Alexander it was different. Academics was where he shined – and therefore, he was utterly shunned by his schoolmates, which was a shame for he was fascinating to be around. The potential exploded out of him whenever Alexander would work on complex mathematical formulas or when he would sit back and do some kind of scientific experiment of his own design.

It was not an uncommon thing for Alexander to be working on seven or eight different free standing projects while maintaining his high level of academic perfection at school. Anything less would have been unacceptable to Alexander – or rather, to his father.

Now, Alexander was gone. Gone, like his parents were gone and there was nothing he could do about it. Shoving away what was left of his meal, he rose. "I'm going to my room, Alfred."

"Very well, sir," Alfred watched him go before picking up the _Gotham Herald_.

"_Meteor Shower in Kansas Kills Luthor Heir_."

Wincing at the bald statement, Alfred sat down to read. If he was to help Master Bruce through this, he needed to understand what happened, the extent of the tragedy. Still, to be killed in such a violent manner…hopefully, the blow had been so fast, Master Alexander hadn't felt it.

"_As reported earlier this week, several meteor showers struck several Kansas. The first of these showers struck the town of Smallville and extended into Granville. While numbers of the dead are still being tabulated, it has been confirmed by the deeply grieving Mrs. Lillian Luthor that her missing son – and the heir to Luthor Corp, Alexander Joseph Luthor – is among the dead._

"_While looking at a prospective site with his father, the founder of Luthor Corp, Lionel Luthor, they were unavoidably separated. According to various sources, the young boy was doing some exploring of the area, escorted by his body guard, one Max Kasich. The man is alive, though in a deep coma._

"_Forgetting safety once the meteors began to fall and ravage the landscape, Mr. Luthor left the shelter of the Ross' Creamed Corn Factory to search for his son. "_I had never been so worried in all my life. All I wanted was for my son to join me inside, where it was safe,"_ he said when asked about his reckless actions."_

Alfred snorted, "Not likely. The idea of you worrying over Master Alexander is laughable," he remembered his one and only meeting with the man. It had been right after Master Bruce's unfortunate experiment had gone awry. The man hadn't even asked how his son was or what had gone wrong. He merely demanded that his son stop acting like a child. He was too old for such juvenile antics as a hospital stay.

Of Lionel's grief, he knew it was just for show, merely a publicity stunt. Lillian, on the other hand, would be utterly devastated. It had taken her long enough to get pregnant with him in the first place. Losing Master Alexander had to be like losing a limb with no way to deaden the pain, there was no one else to take his place. Though he had heard vague rumors of her being pregnant with another child, he did not put much stock in such words as no one had ever seen the child.

What must she be going through with only a cold man like Lionel to comfort her?

Shaking his head, he continued to read, dreading every word.

"_Finding his youngest son, Julian Xerxes Luthor – aged four – stumbling through the flattened cornfields was something of a shock. "_Seeing him standing there, I thought the whole state must've been barraged by the meteors. I thought we were all dead, trapped in some kind of hellish limbo. My thoughts immediately turned to my beloved wife, Lillian, and where she was in this horrible world. I could only pray that she was safe and well, that she was spared this horror all around me,_" he told us._

"_When asked later why she and Julian were not together, Mrs. Luthor simply told us that she let him play with the children while she hosted the Children's Charity, stating that the party was not a place young kids could relax and truly enjoy themselves. The Semi Annual Bazaar was held on lands situated between Granville and Smallville (for more details on the Bazaar, turn to the society section)._

_This is the first time since the birth of her second child that Mrs. Luthor has been back in the US attending a function for her husband's company. Though the circumstances are undeniably tragic, it was wonderful to see the third child of the Munroe family front and center once again."_

The article went on to describe the relief efforts and the town's rebuilding. But Alfred had read quite enough to realize that something was not right – and not just that the existence of a second child in the Luthor household had been confirmed. While Mrs. Luthor was more progressive than most society mothers, she was not one to let her child run about without adequate supervision and protection. And if she had, he knew Lionel would have had his boy watched.

Protection at Excelsior Prep had certainly increased to an insane degree before Alexander's first day there.

Pushing his confused thoughts to the side, he rose to his feet. There was still work to do. He would give Master Bruce time alone to grieve. Time in which to come to terms with what had happened to his acquaintance. Besides, he still did not know what to do. With the death of his parents still fresh in his mind, how was he to comfort Master Bruce over this loss?

While he knew that Master Alexander and Master Bruce had bonded on an intellectual level, he didn't think they were close. Perhaps all he needed was time to get over the shock. He would not push him to talk if there was no real reason to.

Still, he would be extra watchful.

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Bruce entered his room, glaring at nothing in particular through his tears. His brown eyes landed on the files on his desk, on the project he worked more than half the night on. In a fury, he smashed it to the ground, tearing his notes to shreds once the project was utterly destroyed.

After all, if Alexander wasn't around for him to impress, what was the point?

Suffocating under the weight of his utter disappointment, he fell onto the bed, pounding the pillows uselessly. "You lied," he snarled out, voice muffled. "You said a Luthor would never just die in any kind of plebian way. How could you lie to me? Deny your eternalness?"

Falling silent, he turned and noticed the funky picture hanging on his wall. He mirthlessly laughed, remembering when he'd asked Alexander about it.

"_It's crap art, Bruce – symbolizing my father's business and my future legacy. I can't wait until he sees it," he added mischievously_.

"_Alexander," Bruce said. He'd always called him Alexander, claiming it was something special between them. "Mr. Luthor will blacken your hide for this. He won't see it as abstract art, you know that. So, why do you encourage him this way?_"

"_At least this way, I know he sees that I'm alive," Lex shrugged, eyes dimming. "It's part of the game we play. But you are right, toss it in the trash. I'll do something else, something better that my mother will be proud of. See you later," he gathered up some supplies and left, presumably to the library. Though in reality, he probably went to the science lab._

_Whenever he was really upset, Lex went there, claiming that the scents reminded him of his mother. It had seemed strange to him until he found out that Mrs. Luthor had an intense interest in all the branches of science, though she was particularly found of organic chemistry. With her teaching, he had formed several definite opinions about the nature of science and what it could really be used for._

_Instead of throwing it away, he carefully rolled it up and stuck it in one of his trunks. It was hardly appropriate but he knew his parents – his father especially – would enjoy it. His own picture was far from complete, being a highly boring project in his mind. But even in that state, he could see the marked difference in quality between them._

_Of course, that might have been due to the fact that Bruce couldn't wrap his mind around his topic – the natural life cycle of a banana tree. When would he use that? He was thinking of going into a career in law enforcement, not botany._

_Clink, clink, CLINK_!

Dashing his hand across his face, he stood up and walked over to the window where the noise had come from. Rachael Dawes stood below, sunlight glinting off her dark hair. She smiled up at him, eyes twinkling. "Are you going to hide away on such a great day?" she called, rolling something around in her hand. "I haven't seen you in _ages_, Bruce. Come on down, mom'll make us a picnic lunch and everything."

A wan smile crossed his face as he stared at his oldest friend. It was with some regret that he said, "Not today, Rachael. I'm still tired from the drive home and unpacking my stuff." He couldn't get up any energy to say more than that.

"Oh," she was disappointed. "Okay. Well, I hope you feel better soon. You have to go back to that snob school soon."

"See you," he waved, not adding that he might not go back at all. Without someone to share his academic highs with – someone who actually understood what he was doing and saying – it seemed extremely unimportant. Odd though Alexander had been, he seemed to understand when to press him and when to just shut up. The weaker boy knew what it was like to have nightmares. He'd had more than a few of them himself.

And, unlike Oliver, never teased him about them.

Besides, he hadn't wanted to stay at Excelsior after his parents died. That had all been because of Mr. Earl, his company's de facto head. He seemed to think that going to Excelsior Prep with a bunch of other privileged sons would help him grow into a businessman. Or convince him to leave the business alone and just enjoy the wealth he already had. Alexander and he had talked about it often and could never quite come to a decision about which solution Mr. Earl favored.

And Alexander had managed to creep back into his thoughts once again. What was he going to do without him?

Kneeling down, he began to pick up his mess, his attention mindlessly bent upon his task. As the floor became cleaner, he started to breath easier. Finally, he sat back and leaned against his desk, wishing for something he could never have again. Wishing for the safety of his mother's embrace, the security of his father's voice, and wanting to have his seminal friend but mostly academic rival back.

That night, he sat at the dinner table, staring at his food. Occasionally, he picked up the fork but put it down again seconds later, never once tasting the food. The thought of eating sickened him as he realized that it was something Alexander would never do again – just like his parents.

"Is everything all right, Master Bruce?" Alfred finally broke the silence, concerned. The boy didn't answer him, almost as if he hadn't heard him. Sitting down, he asked as carefully as he could, trying not to be too invasive, "Master Bruce, is it about Master Luthor?"

"He wasn't supposed to die, Alfred," he said at last. "Alexander and I were supposed to change the world. We were going to make things in this world better. He was going to change the way business was done, make it more ethical and fair to those less fortunate than us. I was supposed to help the unfortunate of the world by getting rid of those who preyed on them. We were supposed to be a team, with him watching out for me while I guarded him."

"I had not realized that you two were so close," he said, more than a little surprised by these plans. Obviously, the two had been close enough to talk about the future in such detail that they had actually worked out a life long strategy together. They were more detailed than the word plan encompassed. "You have never invited him over as you have your other friends."

"I invited," Bruce scowled. "His _father_ refused to let him come, said something about friends being a lie and a myth. Friends were only enemies dressed differently to fool the senses of the unwary. A Luthor didn't need anyone, though he didn't really say that because I was there. But I could tell from the implications in his words."

"Tell me about him," he invited. His only memory of the boy was seeing him in the hospital surrounded by tubes and wires. Red orange hair had been the only color on the boy, even his eyes had been rather colorless in that pale face, being a grey blue.

Bruce looked at him, sharply suspicious but hopeful. "Do you really want to know? I remember when your face when you first learned about Alexander being my roommate. You didn't seem happy."

"I could say the same about you, Master Bruce. I seem to recall you throwing a nasty tantrum upon learning that you would have to share quarters with the Luthor span, as you named him," he reminded him. "Your attitude has clearly changed and I wish to know why."

"I behaved badly," Bruce looked ashamed. "I didn't even know that much about him because he was an asthmatic who couldn't play sports like the rest of us and loved books more than people. And he was really introverted, held himself aloof from the rest of us, almost like he thought he was better than us."

"What made you see past the Luthor name to the boy behind it?"

"It's not that I saw past it," Bruce admitted slowly. "Alexander saw something in me, may be it was the fact that I defended him against Oliver one day. I don't really know. But from that point on, he allowed me to really see who he was. Alexander was very secretive – but he had very good reasons for it. He could do some of the coolest things, things that no one else thought of."

"For example?" he asked, almost apprehensively. To the best of his knowledge – based on what he knew of the Luthor family – Alexander didn't think like anyone else either. He held his peace about his doubts though for Bruce was eating, as if speaking distracted him and allowed him to do so.

"Well," he paused to think, chewing his linguini. "When we had that weather project, Alexander actually made a working model of a tornado comparing it to a hurricane in size, power, and destruction. It was almost as good as his tsunami model."

"Really, sir? Was that not the project that was competing with your El Niño one?" Alfred asked, subtly putting more food on Bruce's plate.

Buttering his roll absently, he nodded, "Our projects tied. Mom and dad were happy for me but poor Alexander. His father was furious that he didn't do better. In his opinion, there should have been no tie between us for a Luthor is no one's equal. They are superior to all." He didn't add that Lionel had spanked Alexander so hard for his failure that he hadn't been able to sit or lie down properly for months afterwards.

"I see," he murmured, sensing that there was something Bruce wasn't saying. "Would you care for some dessert?"

Nodding, he pushed his plate aside, "That was before we became friends. Alexander and I had a rivalry going on but this made me look at him differently. Not that we still didn't tussle over academic achievements but there was more of a friendly atmosphere to it than before. I enjoyed our engagements far more after this challenge than I had before. And then…there was just the way he behaved towards me when we were alone as opposed to how we were in public."

"What do you mean?" he slide a slice of caramel apple pie onto an empty plate.

"Unlike my friends, Alexander understood that my fears weren't something to be mocked or could be quickly fixed. Oliver locked me outside one night, trying to help me conquer my fear of bats. It only made things worse," Bruce sunk his fork into the warm pie and took a bite.

"I can only imagine how scared you must have felt, sir." Alfred couldn't imagine how someone could willingly hurt a friend like that, even in the name of helping them.

"I was," he agreed, eyes dimming at the memory. "Alexander came after me when he realized that I was going to miss curfew. Of course, he covered for me so that I wouldn't get into trouble when the prefects checked for us. Then, he climbed out the window and down the tree outside our room.

He paused, as if trying to impress upon him the magnitude of his words, "Alfred, Alexander is mind bogglingly _terrified_ of heights. His fear of them exceeds mine of bats. But he did it. He came after me and he found me, getting us inside and making sure that I was settled before hiding in the bathroom to fall apart. I don't think he wanted me to know."

"Why?" Alfred started cleaning up the plates, putting them on a cart. Pushing the cart into the hall, he listened for his answer.

"Why? Alexander didn't want to burden me with his problems, though he encouraged me to talk about my own." Bruce yawned, almost surprised by the sound and action. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm still tired."

"Then you should go straight to bed tonight instead of staying up and working like you did last night," Alfred reprimanded him. "Master Bruce, if you need to talk…"

"I'll know who to go to," he smiled as he rose and stumbled out the door, "Thanks."

Watching him sleepily walk away, a thoughtful look entered his eyes. Walking into the kitchen, he nodded to Mrs. Dawes and Rachael. "I take it the young Master is feeling better?" she asked, noticing the empty plates.

"His spirits have improved," he cautiously agreed with her, putting them in the sink. "Do you know anything about the Luthor family?"

"Only what is spoken of by the servants and, while what we say is more reliable than what you'd read in those rages that pass as newsworthy, it isn't completely accurate. Most seem to think that Lillian married beneath her when she chose Lionel," she made it sound like a curse. "She also disappeared a few years back, after giving birth to another child, though there has been no word about what this child is like."

"So, he really does have a younger sibling as the newspaper said," he wondered why Bruce hadn't said anything. Why, if they were so close, would Master Alexander keep that from him?

Her head shook and she chose her words carefully. "I'm not so sure that what they printed is the truth. Money can only buy so much secrecy – and this child has never been whispered about in any circle, even so much as its gender. Lionel Luthor would never keep quiet about another heir, even at his wife's request. And no one can inspire that much loyalty – or even that much fear – to keep the child of such a prominent family a secret. In all honesty, no matter what has been reported, I don't think that child is really a Luthor at all."

Bruce drew back into the shadows, stricken by the thought that Alexander had had a brother and kept it from him. Even if the baby had died, he thought that something would have been mentioned in passing. Alexander was quite fond of dropping the weirdest facts about.

Of course, if the child didn't exist, that would explain it.

As much as he wished to buy this as the reason, he couldn't get passed the fact that it had been reported in the paper. Why _had_ it been kept from him? Did Alexander not trust him? Or had there been a more sinister reason for his silence? Could his father have threatened him in some fashion to keep quiet? He wouldn't put much past Lionel Luthor when it came to his son and preserving his legacy.

Still…there was something that seemed hollow about such a theory. Forgetting that he wanted a glass of water, he went back upstairs. Once he'd washed his face and brushed his teeth, he settled into bed, turning to face the window. The moonlight streamed into the room, with an occasional cloud shadowing it, thoughts racing in his mind.

Finally, he shook his head. It didn't matter what the reasons for the secrecy had been. The only one who could answer them was gone. And he would have to deal with that. _I hope you're happy wherever you are, Alexander. But why did you have to die? You were supposed to help me clean up my city and avenge my parents' deaths_.

So, now he had a new goal. Avenge his parents' death and do everything he and Alexander had planned to do. All on his own, it was his duty.

More importantly, it was now his destiny.

654321

Duncan Allenmyer almost screamed in rage when his mom told him the news.

It was almost impossibly to believe it. Death sounded so final. He remembered when his dad had died and his mom had disappeared into business before Luthor had bought them out. Had taken them over – and Lex had simply inducted himself into his life.

He had introduced him to the wonders that lay in the world of comics. Most specifically, the world of _Warrior Angel_, telling him simply, _it's far less painful than real life, you know. At least in the world of comics, happy endings are almost always a certainty. Pain never lasts long and death is rarely the victor. Mom gave them to me when she first got sick. Learn from these guys, even if they do look goofy. They've got some really good things to teach a person. Be patient, take the time to learn your strengths and when the time comes – take back from my dad what he took away from you. Allenmyer Pharmaceuticals is __**your**__ legacy and heritage, not my dad's_.

Lex was weird that way.

But he was Duncan's phoenix. He would be back, rising from the ashes to help him reclaim his inheritance from Lionel Luthor. Nothing could kill a Luthor, not even a freakish meteor shower because Lex's own dad had said that Lex had a destiny.

And death would have interrupted that destiny.

654321

Staring blankly at his reflection, Oliver Queen could only see the words: _Luthor Heir Dead_ before his eyes. It was hard to accept that someone with as much drive as the Luthor brat had held could possibly be gone for good. As much as he despised the cowardly user – though he had no evidence that Lex ever used anyone – he never wanted him dead, just out of his school.

Now, he felt somewhat guilty for his thoughts about the kid.

Still, he couldn't be truly upset that he was gone. Without Luthor there, Bruce would come back to them again. He would stop being coddled and grow up. As smart as Bruce was, he hadn't caught onto the fact that Luthor was using him. He was just using him, trapping him and enabling his fears. Teaching him to let them rule over him instead of destroying them.

Things would return to normalcy without that boy there. He ignored the nagging voice inside that told him that things would never return to the way they were. To much had changed for too many people, death had a way of leaving more than a few marks upon the skin that weren't readily visible to the naked eye.


	6. Another Oddity Added to My List

_Title: Shifted Destiny_  
_Rated: G_  
_Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville, Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman or Spider-Man's characters. They belong to DC Comics, Warner Brothers Entertainment, Marvel Comics, Columbia Pictures, and the creators of Smallville (the show) itself, Al Gough and Miles Millar respectively._  
_Genre: Alternate Universe. Gender Bending._  
_Summary: Continuing reactions to the news of Lex's death. And things continue to wax strange with both Alexa and Julian as they learn to deal with their lives._  
_Author's Note: Just about done establishing this world and its parameters, the people who live here and their relationship to one another. I hope that all my replies went through to my reviewers and helped. Thanks to everyone who has been faithfully reading my story. I appreciate the support_.

654321

Yawning, Alexa opened her eyes and fumbled around for her glasses. Once they were on, she pushed back her covers, grabbed her bathrobe from off of the chair by the dresser, and shuffled off into the bathroom. Though it seemed earlier than usual, she knew it was not – and she had to be ready to go when called.

Taking a brisk shower cleared the rest of the haze from her mind. Stepping out of the shower, she used the extra towel there to clean off a section of the mirror so that she could finish getting ready.

_Clown hair_!

The words sounded so loud, she looked around, trying to find the speaker – though she knew that there was no one there but her. Shaking herself out of her foolish thoughts, she continued to get ready, wondering what she and Pete would do that afternoon. He'd been mighty secretive when he'd talked to her earlier and she couldn't wait, though she had a funny feeling that she had never liked surprised.

It would be their last day together before she went to the hospital and she was not looking forward to it at all. Even after all of her research and the kindness of the doctors who had been so patient with her questions, she wasn't sure how she felt about the operation or the people she'd have around her. While her parents would be with her at the beginning, they could not stay the whole time. The farm would need them – as her father was always fond of saying '_cows didn't milk themselves_'.

The idea of going to Metropolis – of being away from her family – unnerved her. With the exception of Julian and Mrs. Luthor – who still gave her the creeps – she didn't know a soul there as friend. It seemed…incredibly lonely and while she valued her alone time, being alone under those circumstances scared her.

"Alexa, hurry up. Your chores won't do themselves and we have to make our own food today as your mom is still helping out at the school," Jonathan warned, rapping on the door.

"Coming, dad," she replied, proud of the fact that she'd spoken clearly, even if it had been just two words. The door opened and she smiled up at him as she stepped outside. Following after him, she paused just long enough to toss her bathrobe into her room. Stepping outside, she stopped and stared in wide eyed wonder, unable to take in the glistening white that met her eyes with anything but amazement.

Overnight, their world had transformed into a vast expanse of white. Alexa was awed as she stared around her. "Dad, wh…what is all this?"

"It's snow, Alexa," he answered, keeping his tone steady. Part of him wanted to laugh at the look she was giving the snow. It was as if she'd never seen it before. Of course, living in the heart of the city, she might not have ever seen snow so pristine and close up. And Luthor, being Luthor, he probably had the snow cleaned up as fast as it had fallen.

But another part of him wondered if the reason for this wonder was far darker. Alexa had shown no recognition of the things and experiences she had before the meteor shower, though her quick grasp of things implied that the knowledge was still there. It was just hidden under the veneer of amnesia.

The question remaining was, would the amnesia lift? Or was it permanent?

Jonathan couldn't help but hope that it was a permanent loss.

And he wasn't alone in that hope. While Lillian may secretly wish for the return of her child's memory, he and Martha were in agreement. The less Alexa recalled of Lionel's lessons on life, the happier she'd be. And neither felt guilty about this. Alexa was _their_ daughter now, and they wished the very best for her – which meant a lack of Luthor and his unsavory teachings.

If he could have kept Julian and Lillian away from her, he would have. To his way of thinking, the more contact they had with them meant that it wouldn't be long before Lionel came himself. But it wasn't probable any longer to cut them off. Julian had come to depend on them and she needed the stability that having them around gave her.

"Snow," she repeated wonderingly. "I'm glad the me…me…meteor shower only de...delayed the snowfall. We ne…ne…need the moisture it will pro…provide after the de…des…destruction."

"We always need the moisture," he gently reminded her.

"I know, dad. But after the sh…shower, we need it m…more. I did some pro…pro…projections and f…f…found th…the rocks bur…burned up a lot of the extra moi…moisture in the land. This will re…re…replace it."

_Projections_? Jonathan hid his start of surprise as she talked. Most nine year olds wouldn't know what that word meant, let alone knew how to use it correctly. And she apparently knew how to use logic and reason to figure things out in relation to the environment and the added elements these meteors brought into it.

Once the business of this operation was out of the way, he knew that she'd need to be tested – yet again – for school placement. Obviously, keeping her in the fifth grade was not going to work for much longer, even if the children were her age mates. Martha had told him that Alexa's teacher had already complained about how bored she seemed to be. Alexa just wasn't being challenged by their curriculum.

He stifled another sigh as he realized that it might mean sending her away to a special school, one that had the classes and teachers who could teach her at the level she really required. There was no way they could afford to do that, not without touching Mrs. Luthor's money.

"And just when did you do this?" he asked, encouraging her to continue.

"Ov..over the c…course of t..t…two we…weeks," she said, entering the barn and brushing off her jacket. The chill outside seemed worse inside. "No re…rea…reasonable hy…hypothesis can be pro…proven in a day. One has to chart out the pr…pr…progression of a theory ov…over the c…course of a few d…d…days, at least. I ch…choose two we…wee…weeks as my t…t…timeline be…be…because it was re…really all I c…could sp…spare."

"Why is that?" he asked, watching her as she approached the cows. Even after all this time, she was nervous and skittish around them. It was very easy to tell in that moment that she was not country born. They'd almost had a few painful accidents because the cows reacted to her uneasy feelings. But she was trying and that was what mattered to Jonathan.

"My co…coming operation – and the rocks make Julian sick," she told him.

"What?" he stared at her, worried by what she said. "Are you all right?" As bad as it might make him seem, he could care less about the state of Julian's health. The boy had all the best resources money could buy at his disposal. Alexa really only had them and one, lone country doctor. Other than what was being used for this surgery, he wouldn't touch Mrs. Luthor's money.

If for no other reason than he thought it should be used in emergency situations only.

"I'm fine. Th…they only seem to affect Julian," she shrugged. "Lead s…s…seems to s…st…stop the affect, so I k…kept all of my me…meteorite r…rocks in the lead box Mrs. Luthor g…ga…gave me. Dad, why is s…s…she s…s…so c…con…concerned a…about me?"

Shelving the information about Julian and his reaction to the meteors aside, he sighed. This was not a question he wished to answer – especially without talking to Martha about it first. Of all the things they had discussed, this was the one thing they had never been able to address adequately no matter how many times it came up. It just wasn't something that had an easy, cover everything answer.

"I don't know. You need to ask her."

Though she was pretty sure he knew more than he said, she let it drop. It really wasn't her concern anyway. With the total exception of Julian, she didn't think about the Luthor family all that much. Well, she tried not to.

"Alexa!" Pete's cry startled her as she was finishing up with the last cow. She looked up, getting a face full of snow in the process.

"Pete!" she protested, wiping away the snow and hearing him laughing. "Dad!"

"This is snow fighting season, Alexa," he smiled. "Pete just fired the opening shot – now, you have to defend your honor and fight back."

"How?" she asked, watching as he went to the door. Rising, she put the pail away and joined him, staring doubtfully at the snow.

"Like this," he bent down and showed her how to make a snowball. Handing it to her, he nodded his head in Pete's direction, indicating that she should throw it at him. Biting her lip for a moment, she nodded solemnly and threw it at her friend before joining him. Jonathan watched them play in the snow. A laugh escaped as he saw that more snow ended up on Alexa and Pete from their own efforts than the actual fight.

As he walked into the house to get some breakfast started, he hoped that she'd learn how to make and throw a snowball soon. Otherwise, when she got back to school, she'd be annihilated by the other kids. A frown crossed his face as something else Martha said came to mind.

Alexa was already singled out at school for being to odd. She couldn't seem to find a friend outside of the one she had in Pete and his siblings. The teachers said that she just didn't unbend enough to act like the other kids, wouldn't even join in some of the they played games. He couldn't help but wonder if that was a remnant of her past with Lionel.

"Breakfast!" Jonathan called, hearing the two of them playfully arguing. It was such a happy sound, he almost regretted the fact that they hadn't taken in another child when they had adopted her. Martha and he had talked it over, really considered it. But the complications of Alexa's history had made such an idea unfeasible. Over breakfast, they talked and argued over the best way to make and throw snowballs.

"My brother could teach you," Pete offered over a mouthful of waffles.

"Really?" she asked, sipping her orange juice. Her eyes sparkled at the idea.

"Yeah, he taught me."

"Go on," Jonathan ordered once they were done, "Back outside with the both of you."

Kissing him on the cheek, she followed Pete outside. After an hours worth of snowball throwing, they switched to other games, though they paused to make a snowman.

"Pete!" she hollered, she slipped on an icy patch and landed hard, hearing a sharp _snap_ rend the air. Pain shot up through her ankle and tears filled her eyes. Knowing that she couldn't let them fall, she screamed, "DAD!"

Even from the kitchen where he was making lunch, he heard her. Putting down the utensils, he made sure to turn off the oven before pulling on his jacket. Running outside, he called out, searching for the both of them. "ALEXA! PETE! Where are you?"

"Over here!" she called out, fiercely trying not to cry. She reminded herself again that it wouldn't be a good idea to cry, but she hurt so badly – and it was so cold.

"Jonathan, what happened?" Martha asked, getting out of the truck and joining him. The sun was quickly being covered by storm clouds, making it very difficult to see but there was a sense of urgency in the air. Even though she wanted to run with him to help in the search, she went back to get a flashlight.

"I don't know," he said, appreciative of the added light. "Pete and Alexa were playing. Then, I heard her shouting for me."

Pete sat by Alexa, scared by the frozen look on her face, pinched with pain. It was a look he hadn't seen since the orphanage. He wanted to run for the Kents, bring them to her, but he couldn't leave her alone. So, he called out, his voice shaky and thin in the still air. Finally, he saw a beam of light and stood up, waving his arms and yelling ferociously. "We're over here!"

"Alexa, sweetie, are you all right?" Martha asked, quickly dropping to kneel beside her.

"Mom?" her voice wavered, full of pain. "I think I broke my ankle. It hurts."

"We'll get you inside and take a look," she reassured her, as did her dad's touch. "Jonathan, pick her up on three. Honey, when you hear three, your dad will lift you. It's going to hurt but I need you to be very still when he moves you, even with the pain you feel, okay?"

Alexa's head jerked in understanding. Biting her lip, she tensed as her mom counted and up she went. Tears stung her eyes as she clutched her dad's neck tightly as they went inside. In the kitchen, her mom got a pan of hot, salt water to soak her foot in while her dad gently worked off her boot and sock.

Pete nervously stood by the door, watching. "I'm sorry you got hurt, Alexa.'

"Not your fault, Pete," she said, wincing. "I'm sorry to ruin your last day on the farm."

"S'okay," he shrugged. Hearing a knock on the door, he looked at Martha, wondering what he should do. At her nod, he led the way to the door. The two left in the kitchen and they could hear the murmur of a conversation once the door opened, though they could not hear the words.

Martha came back after a few moments and sat down, "Pete says good-bye. How's your ankle?"

"Still sore," she admitted, moving it about as though to test it.

"Don't move it," Martha scolded her, noticing the look on Jonathan's face. "What is it?"

Instead of answering right away, he knelt down again and gently felt her ankle. "Honey, are you sure you broke your ankle?"

She nodded, "I heard it snap."

"Jonathan," Martha prodded him after a few moments of tense silence.

Looking up at them, his head shook in disbelief. "Alexa, your ankle – other than being swollen – is fine. I checked it when I took off your boot, just like I did now. It's only sprained."

"Then what did I hear?" she whispered, leaning into Martha's arms. She was far more scared than she could say. Something was happening and her parents couldn't stop it, they couldn't change or fix the fact that she was different in yet another way. But this time, there was no operation or wig to cover it up.

"Could she have hurt another part of her foot? One that you could not feel?" she asked, not wanting to say it. To confirm that her daughter had yet another oddity to separate her from the other kids. "Or heard something under the snow break?"

"Not at the angle her ankle was bent," he denied her that reprieve. It killed him to say the words, to admit what they meant. Yet another secret for his family to hide from the world. "As she already said, she broke her ankle - there's no way she could only have sprained it. I don't quite understand why but her ankle healed."

"The meteors," Alexa dully said, admitting what she had always suspected. "They changed me somehow. It explains why I heal so fast."

"Will this affect the surgery?" Martha quietly asked, resigned. Inside, she both cursed and blessed the meteor shower that changed everything. If not for it, she would not have a child. But the shower had hurt so many people, had taken away so many – and changed a few of the residents of their town in unimaginable ways.

"It shouldn't. If anything, it should help her recovery. I'm more worried about how certain people will react should it become public knowledge," Jonathan grimly informed them being deliberately vague, knowing that Martha would pick up on his meaning.

So far, Lillian had kept her word about keeping Lionel away from them. But if he heard about this, what would he do to get his hands on her? Having lost in the biding war for the Ross' factory, he had no reason to come back to Smallville, even if his son and wife stayed here often. Would this change everything?

"We can't put off the surgery, Jonathan," Martha finally said, though she knew he was right to be afraid. "If it happens, if he finds out, we'll deal with it then."

There was a new twinge of fear in the air. One far stronger than before and she had a feeling it had to do with her healing. "What are you so worried about?" Alexa asked. For the first time, she was demanding answers from her parents.

"Lionel Luthor," Jonathan said bluntly. The distaste in his voice was obvious and Alexa wondered just what the man had ever really done to her father. As far as she knew, the Luthor family had never had anything to do with them until recently when Mrs. Luthor had chosen them for whatever reason to help her take care of Julian. "If he found out about your healing abilities, he could make things…uncomfortable for us."

"But why would he care?" she pressed them, knowing it was important she know about this one thing over all the other secrets her parents were keeping from her. Parents always had secrets from their children and she could accept that. But this one had a direct impact upon her, she could tell that from the way Martha and Jon didn't quite meet her eyes.

"If he could replicate what you now do naturally, he could increase his fortune and power. Using you as an experiment, he might be able to develop cures for all kinds of ailments. There may even be a way to slow down the aging process," Martha explained when it became obvious that he could not.

Resting her hand on Alexa's she looked her in the eye. "Honey, he might be able to use your gift in many unscrupulous ways to gain control of many people desperate for a quick fix. He could use what money and power he has to take you from us."

Alexa's breath came in panting gasps, as though she'd run thousands of miles. Though her lungs tightened, remembering the asthma she'd always had, the expected fall out her body expected did not happen. "I won't tell. Not Pete – not even Julian will know," she swore, feeling a twinge of guilt at the thought of keeping something from Julian.

But she had to – she couldn't lose her mom and dad, not after waiting so long to get adopted by them.

"We know you won't tell, you just need to be more careful," he soothed her. "We'll talk to the doctors, find out what the normal recovery time is. If it seems like you'll heal faster than you should, we'll bring you home right after the surgery. No matter what, we _**will**_ face this together, as a family. Okay?"

"Okay," she nodded.

654321

The phone rang as Gabe Sullivan walked into the apartment. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he dropped his keys by the phone and picked it up. "Sullivan," he said, even as he hoped it was not work. After the past eighteen hour shift, he didn't think he would be able to deal with anyone without killing them.

"I'm glad I caught you," a voice said over the line. "How would you like a new job as a supervisor in a creamed corn factory in Smallville? There is already a night and day shift manager, I just need a new one to replace the retiring mid-shift manager. The job guarantees set hours, allowing you time to be with your daughter. It also means a pay raise of seven dollars and Sundays off."

"Why Sunday?" he asked, intrigued despite himself – and the lack of full details. Though there was something about the name Smallville that he felt he should know. "And who are you?" he asked, unable to place the voice as male or female. It was hard to tell if there was an accent or any kind of identifying sound. But the voice did sound rather honest and trustworthy.

"Who I am does not concern you at the moment. Should you accept the position, I shall meet with you in private. Thus, the need for secrecy should be clear," there was an ironic sound to the words before it became brisk. "As for your first question, I signed a contract wherein I promised not to make dramatic changes to the factory. As established by the previous owners, the factory closes on Sunday."

"What else?"

"The factory is the main center of employment. Unless there is good reason, I have agreed to keep all employees."

"If you forgive me, that was an unwise decision," he pinched his nose. "Sentimentality will always protect those who aren't doing their best or who should be demoted in position."

"I looked over their performance reviews and did my own independent study. The employees are well placed. Now, once the take-over is announced to the general public, there might be some trouble. But they are hard workers. Mr. Sullivan, it's a small town and people talk. If they didn't do their best, everyone would know."

Gabe had his doubts. After all, small towns had their secrets and their own castes. Still, "I would like to see these reports before I make any decision. I will also need to talk to my daughter."

"Of course, I would've expected nothing less, Mr. Sullivan. A courier will drop the papers off at your house in a few hours. I'll call you in a week, giving you time to peruse them and do your own research." The phone clicked and he heard the dial tone.

Shaking his head, he hung up and stumbled up the stairs, pulling off his tie. He would have a little nap before he picked Chloe up from her grandmother's. Perhaps the nap would help him focus and clear his mind.

Feeling better as he walked down the stairs, refreshed from both the nap and shower, he picked up his keys. Opening the door, he thought about the job offer. It was almost to good to be true and he couldn't help but think that there was something he should be seeing but couldn't.

Just as he was unlocking his car, he heard one stop and turned around, noticing a young man step out of the car. Jogging towards him, he asked, "Mr. Sullivan?"

"Yes?"

"Would you mind signing for this?" he asked, holding up a parcel.

Quickly signing it, he accepted it and thanked the man. Once he got in his car, he put it on the passenger seat. He'd study it once Chloe was in bed. Also, he decided to talk to his mom. As she'd been Chloe's main care giver since he'd lost his wife, she'd know if such a move would adversely affect her.


End file.
